


Crossroad Karma

by SilverServerError



Series: Destiny Records [1]
Category: CLAMP - Works, Tokyo Babylon, Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, Wish (Manga), X -エックス- | X/1999, xxxHoLic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Lorde Ashura, Multi, People in unhealthy relationships trying to make them healthier, Subaru finally has a nice time, TW: one instance of near dub-con, internalized violaphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:59:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 98,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverServerError/pseuds/SilverServerError
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Music journalist Doumeki gets the chance of a lifetime when he is asked to cover the reunion of legendary band Crossroad Karma, lead by none other than the infamous Yuuko Ichihara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lua/gifts).



> If anyone is interested, I have a tumblr for my writing at http://silverservererror.tumblr.com/
> 
> Feel free to drop me a line or leave me a request.

Doumeki sat at the bar, nursing his whiskey sour slowly. He was working after all. It was half past midnight by now and those with day jobs to wake up to were clearing out. After the last set, the crowd had started to thin, making the theater bearable to walk through. There was only one act left: TBA. 

No time like the present. 

Doumeki typed out the short message on his phone. It was possibly the biggest news he’d ever fit into 140 characters. He pressed ‘tweet’ and waited. 

It had been his editor’s idea, negotiated carefully with her management. He would send the first announcement of the band’s return and the readers would hopefully follow that bread crumb back to the full length piece he would be publishing a few weeks from now. He wasn’t sure who was doing whom the favor in this case but at the very least he appreciated how many people had been speaking behind closed doors for months to make this happen. 

The change in the crowd was gradual. Some excited voices. A few whispers of the band name at first, then more. _Crossroad Karma? No way. Crossroad Karma! Did you hear?_ The crowd which had been dissipating started to tighten back up to the stage. There were some lucky few who had found out before they passed the guards in the hallway leading to the foyer. Those not so lucky were being refused and forced out by security. It sucked but that was the only way she could play in a venue so small without a riot. 

As time stretched on, the crowd noise quieted. They had their arguments about whether it was a hoax or not, ( _Who is this Doumeki guy anyway?_ ) but in the end all they could do was hold their anxious breath, wait and see. 

When the fog machine started, there was a nervous cheer. Minutes later when the lights went out, the roar was deafening. Doumeki almost put his fingers in his ears, but that probably wouldn’t be considered professional. 

Spotlights shown down on a drum set, and two mics to either side of the stage. The drummer took his spot first, walking into the light and with a twirl of sticks started a low drum roll with a slow, steady bass beat pounding underneath. 

The crowd murmured confused. The drummer was new after all. 

Next Maru and Moro edged into place, seeming to appear out of nowhere from the shadows. The screaming started again, even more desperate than it had been before. They’d grown up a lot, but anyone would recognize the iconic blue and pink hair. Here they were, after all these years. Which could only mean…

The noise was like a wall and Doumeki couldn’t help but wince. He’d left his glass at the bar and was joining at the edge of the crowd. He even knew what was coming but the beat was picking up and so was his heart and everyone in the room was helpless in anticipation. The twins grinned to each other, then to the audience. New, yet just like before. Their hands trailed across their instruments, playing teasing little snippets of melody that would trail off to nothingness, feeding off the crowd like it was a member of the band itself. 

All at once the drums stopped and Domeki felt it. That moment of falling… of flying when the bass falls away. Slowly, agonizingly slowly the yelling quieted down. The twins leaned forward into their mics. There was another roar but they waited until there was pin-drop silence. In unison they spoke, “The Mistress will see you now.”

A spotlight switched on upstage center and there she was, standing in all her glory, eyes closed and breathing deeply while she let the applause wash over her. Three slow, deep breaths and the crowd showed no sign of letting up. Her red eyes slid open and a wide smile slid across her face. Unhurriedly she walked up to her own microphone, graceful even in shoes that high on a stage strewn with cables. She gestured for quiet and the crowd gave it instantly. 

“Tell me,” She said, voice smooth and smoky. “What is your wish?” 

The drums gave an upbeat and caught the guitars on the way down. For the first time in seven years, to the accompaniment of thunderous applause, Yuuko Ichihara took to the stage.


	2. Chapter 2

Doumeki took another Milan Cookie. They were kind of dry but he didn’t really want another cup of coffee right now. Even with his press pass and identification he wasn’t allowed up to his appointment but his escort could show up any moment. There was no way the label would let someone, much less a reporter wander their halls unsupervised. So here Doumeki was, waiting for his handler and eating too many dry cookies. 

Through the glass window he watched as a young man, about his own age, hurried out of a taxi, awkwardly struggling under an improbable number of bags. The least he could do was open the door for him. 

The man shot him a distracted “Hey, thanks.” but hurried to the desk. 

“Morning Sumomo! Sorry I’m late.” He pulled out a coffee and left it on her desk. “Have you seen-”

She cut him off pointing back over his shoulder. He turned back, eyes a little wide and blushing a little in embarrassment. “Oh! Sorry. I guess I didn’t recognize you in my rush.” He shrugged an apology and a strap slipped with the gesture. He caught it and and precariously resettled the bag. 

Doumeki didn’t know the man, so raised an eyebrow and hesitated. 

“Hi, Kimihiro Watanuki. I’m Yuuko’s PA and I’ll be showing you around today.” He offered a hand. 

“Shizuka Doumeki.” He shook it. 

“Right. Sorry for the quick introduction, but we really should get up there.” Watanuki lead them through the security door and to an elevator. A bag started slipping again as they entered. 

“Do you want help with those?” Doumeki asked.

“Oh… no, I’ve got it.”

Doumeki glanced down at the bags in question and- 

And was being looked back at. 

“You carry your dog in a purse?” 

“What?”

“I thought that was a stereotype. I didn’t realize anyone actually did it.” 

Doumeki got a nice show of the instantaneous transformation in the elevator’s reflective metal doors. “Ok, first of all, it’s a _tote ___, not a purse! Secondly Mugetsu _just ___got a bath so _excuse ___me for trying to keep him clean. Do you know how dirty public streets get here? He’d just track all that in and next thing you know it’s on every sofa. And third-”

___The elevator dinged and Watanuki seemed to realize he was making a scene. He deflated with another blush._ _ _

___“He’s Yuuko’s dog anyway. Blame her.”_ _ _

___They quickly came to a large room, almost cavernous, with huge windows, filling the space with the bright morning light while also giving a breath taking view of the city. It wasn’t clear what this room normally was; conference area? Office? But for now it was in the disarray and chaos of a photo shoot. Racks of clothing stood against one wall and a make up artist was cleaning up her station. Technicians and assistants bustled around the room, busy with their own jobs and for the most part ignoring the new pair. Yuuko herself was lounging back on a deep red chaise lounge while her band mates posed around her. Every few seconds the lights would flash loudly as the photographer worked._ _ _

___Watanuki struggled to drop half his bags onto an empty corner of table and with his free hand put Mugetsu on the floor. Doumeki thought all small dogs were sort of… pudgy, but this one managed to be tiny but still somehow lanky. His face was fox-like but the body… like a weasel almost? It was weird. Long. Certainly not a breed he’d seen before. His legs were working before his paws even hit tile and as soon as he was down he was running for Yuuko, jumping to her lap._ _ _

___She squealed, picking him up. “Good morning Mr. Mugu! Did you have a nice bath? Are you nice and clean!?” The dog whined happily at her and whatever work had been getting done quickly ground to a halt as the band was distracted, petting and praising the puppy. The photographer sighed with resignation but called out, “Alright, break time. Let’s be back in 10 minutes.”_ _ _

___Everyone seemed to disperse, retreating to their own relaxation except for Yuuko, trailed by the band. “Oh, Watanuki!”_ _ _

___“Yes, yes. Sorry I’m late.” He was busy at the table, pulling out boxes and plates._ _ _

___“Finally! I’ve been starving you know.” She picked a muffin out of a box, not even bothering with the plate._ _ _

___Watanuki caught her at it and held out a napkin. “At least take one of these? Please? You’re going to get crumbs everywhere otherwise. And I thought you said they hadn’t brought you food!” He glared at a table of fruit, granola bars and a carton of coffee._ _ _

___She slipped the napkin between her hand and the muffin. She took a bite and savored it with a short groan. “Mmmm! But Watanuki, catering can’t cook like you.”_ _ _

___He looked horrified. “Do you know how early I had to wake up to make this?”_ _ _

___The rest of the band was crowding around now, plates in hand. The twins were cooing over “Mini pancakes! Mini pancakes! Yum! Yum!” The drummer had a plate full of omelet, hash browns, and sausages and showed no sign of slowing down as he added more to it._ _ _

___“You didn’t happen to bring mimosas, did you?” Yuuko asked as she swallowed another bite._ _ _

___“No I did not bring mimosas! You do _not ___need to be drinking at 9 am on a work day.”_ _ _

____She pouted. “You can be very grumpy sometimes, you know.”_ _ _ _

____“No fun! No fun!” came a synchronized echo over her shoulder._ _ _ _

____Watanuki looked like he was ready to start the rant to end all rants when Yuuko’s eyes slid over to his new companion. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Yuuko. I’m sure you know Maru and Moro and this is our new drummer, Mokona.”_ _ _ _

____“Nice to meet you!” Mokona chirped through a mouthful of potato._ _ _ _

____“I’m Shizuka Doumeki.” He nodded politely._ _ _ _

____Watanuki cut in. “He’s the journalist for the Stones piece so… you know…” Bless him, he was trying to be subtle._ _ _ _

____“So try to avoid all the scandal and rumors behind the scenes? Yes, I get it Watanuki.” She winked saucily at Doumeki. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about it. It wasn’t like he’d print it anyway. If he wanted to be a gossip columnist he would have settled for that job at People._ _ _ _

____“For what it’s worth, I’m not looking for anything like that.” Doumeki offered. “It should be about the music, right?”_ _ _ _

____“How noble.” She said teasingly. Watanuki however looked a little sick. He’d probably heard that line before._ _ _ _

____“Two minutes!” The photographer called out. Wardrobe and make-up drug the band away from their empty plates of food for final touch ups and Watanuki turned to his decimated buffet._ _ _ _

____“Ten minutes.” He said to himself a little sadly, a little in shock. “Two hours I cook for them and in ten measly minutes…” He started stacking up the dirty plates._ _ _ _

____“Eight, technically.” Doumeki picked up the last mini pancake and dipped it in syrup like a fry in ketchup. “This is pretty good.”_ _ _ _

____“That,” Watanuki hissed in a scandalized tone, “Is for the band!”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah but they look pretty finished with it so…”_ _ _ _

____“So what!?”_ _ _ _

____“So there is enough left for you and me. Let’s get some breakfast and then I can help you clean up.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t need your help!”_ _ _ _

____“I’m just offering-”_ _ _ _

____“Well, _Don’t. ___”_ _ _ _

_____Doumeki looked down at the man strangely. He was furious over… a pancake? “Whatever.” He said, taking a plate and heading for a chair where he could watch the shoot while enjoying the view._ _ _ _ _

_____To his surprise Watanuki followed and sat down next to him, still furious but holding on to his plate with white knuckles and eating with bad grace. Doumeki balanced his own on one leg and pulled out a notebook that he propped against the other, holding his fork and pencil in the same hand as he took down notes._ _ _ _ _

_____“You should make breakfast burritos next time. They’d be easier to hold.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“I don’t work for you, you know!”_ _ _ _ _


	3. Chapter 3

Doumeki sat people-watching out the window. Theoretically he was writing for the hour before his next scheduled interview with Ichihara started, but the café had put on a peppy hit he’d wrote a review for three months earlier and it didn’t matter how good a song was; once you’ve listened to it more than ten times in a row, you hate it. It was times like these he regretted his move from classical music. The pay was better but being in public places where the radio might be playing was always a gamble now.

Across the street he spotted Watanuki loitering on the edge of an alleyway, cigarette in hand. When a man stopped to meet him he stomped it out, trading an envelope for a small bag. Doumeki left his tip on the table and slid his computer back into his satchel. By the time he left the café, the man was gone but he tailed Watanuki easily. He waited a few store fronts before calling out, “Oi!”

Watanuki turned, a little edgy then relaxed when he saw was it was just Doumeki. Or… perhaps ‘relaxed’ wasn’t the right word? In any case, the anxiety seemed to change to an annoyance that looked more natural on him. “My name isn’t ‘Oi’.”

Doumeki fell into step beside him.

Reluctantly, Watanuki let him. “You’re early, you know.”

“I can wait in the lobby if it’s a problem.”

“They’ll be in the studio.” He admitted grudgingly. “If you can stay quiet it should be fine.”

“If you’re really worried about tabloids, you might want to arrange your pick-ups more than a block from your label building.”

“Oh this?” Watanuki raised the bag, trying to laugh it off. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s-”

“For her, right?”

Watnuki’s face fell, but he neither confirmed nor denied. “I thought you weren’t here for gossip.”

“I’m not.” He held the door open. “Just some free advice.”

Watanuki muttered under his breath as he passed him by. “Yeah? Well, you get what you pay for I suppose.”

They moved in simmering silence as Watanuki scanned them past security and the elevator dinged each floor. He hesitated as they approached the studio door, the red light not yet illuminated. He turned, arms crossed around the package held at his chest. “They’ll be working in there, ok? So… Quiet. Do not speak unless spoken to.”

Doumeki rolled his eyes but nodded his understanding.

Watanuki paused, seeming to consider something then abandoned it. “Right. Ok.” He braced himself and pushed the door open with his back as they entered.

“Doumeki!?”

“Zashiki?”

They stood for a moment, frozen in surprise: her with a can held up to her ear and her other hand setting the base levels of her half of the mixer, him looking pensively over an increasingly agitated Watanuki’s shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“I do top 40 now. You?”

“I got converted too.”

“How’s it treating you?”

She grinned. “So far so good.”

Watanuki cut in shrilly. “You two know each other?”

The redhead sitting at the closer half of the mixer swatted at his arm. “Quiet Watanuki! We’re about to start!” She gestured to the room beyond the glass. It was arranged in the standard set up, a mess of amps, cords, stands and mics. A horde of studio instruments was arranged against the walls. A lone blonde man was adjusting sound equipment around a piano to one side. He looked small in a room so empty.

Watanuki spluttered. “You’re yelling at _me_?”

_“_ You’re the one being too loud, so yeah! Sit down and stop being distracting.”

They squeezed between the legs of the band sprawled on the couch and the chair backs of Zashiki and her co-worker at the mixing board to take a place on the far side of the room. Besides that there was a tall, dark man that Doumeki hadn’t met yet half perching against the cushion of Yuuko’s arm rest. There were only two chairs left pushed into the corner. Watanuki offered one to him, but he declined so Watanuki and Doumeki sat down and settled into a hushed conversation with Zashiki.

“No but really, how do you two know each other? That’s way too weird to be a coincidence.”

“When I was at my last label, Doumeki was always writing up the new classical albums I was producing.”

“Wait, you review classical?” Watanuki asked.

“Used to.”

She looked over her shoulder. “I’ll introduce you properly later when we’re not working, but this is Amewarashi.”

Doumeki thanked her, putting a face to the name he’d come across in his research.

The woman in question flipped a switch, talking to the other room. “You ready, Fai?”

He pulled his mic into position and looked over his shoulder to shoot them a smile. “Ready when you are.” Amewarashi flicked a few switches then gave him a hand signal to start. Fai sat up a little straighter, voice a little more professional as he spoke again. “Ok, first recording of untitled piece by Fai Flourite for consideration for the Crossroad Karma EP.” He smiled serenely at them. “It’s a little more personal than normal so go easy on me, ok?”

They all watched as he turned back to the keys. He took a deep breath and struck the first few chords. They were soft and melancholic. He played two slow phrases then started singing. “ _Lay it, lay it down. Let me see your hand. Show me what you got._ ” Everyone on their side of the glass stilled, listening intently as the song grew bittersweet but rich. “ _You’re always talking, but you’re not playing. It doesn’t match your face_.” Like something that ached. “ _Gotta find my way. Away from this place. Can you take me now_?” Fai was pouring his heart out for the microphone with lyrics of an uneasy hope. “ _I-I want it. I want it real. Are you afraid of me now_?”

Yuuko sighed ruefully and glanced up to the man on her armrest. “The things your boy could do if you just let him, Kurogane.”

He scoffed, shifting and crossing his arms across his chest. “You think I have a say in _anything_ Fai does or doesn’t do?”

“The press would eat him up.”

“Eat him alive, more like.”

They fell into contemplative silence, everyone a little in awe of the music. It wasn’t until the second chorus that Amewarashi took off her headphones and turned back to Yuuko shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I just don’t hear it. It’s beautiful but…”

“Really?” Yuuko asked. “I was thinking it could be a single.”

“A single? I’m not even sure it’s you! Your fans won’t be expecting anything like this and it’s too good to waste on a B-side.”

“We can work with it. Give it a little more drive. Mokona, any ideas?”

“Of course!” He’d been looking a little lost in his own world and the beat he played on the table top was the one that had been playing silently to himself the entire time. It was heavy. Grounding.

The twins eyed each other, humming almost imperceptibly as they had one of their lightning fast silent conversations of looks and gestures. Together they bobbed to the quiet beat before humming harmonizations that gave the song a warmer, more supported feel.

Zashiki smiled, head moving with the music. “I can do it, I think.” She said softly to her co-producer. “This could work. ”

“We can try I guess.” Amewarashi begrudged. “But I reserve the right to veto if it doesn’t.”

They lapsed into silence again, appreciating the song with the accompaniment added unbeknownst to the author behind the glass. “ _Some days I’m built of metal. I can’t be broken. But not when I’m with you. You love me real. We have it all. Can’t leave me now. I love the way you are today. Run away with me now._ ” The song flowed into the chorus again.

Yuuko tutted. “How have you not proposed yet?”

“Shut up. It’s just a song.” But Kurogane’s cheeks were burning a little. Fai really was a talented songwriter and he wrote from the heart. Which was great, except it meant there was an embarrassingly complete picture of their love life floating around the airwaves. And Fai could get explicit sometimes. Kurogane lived in low-level terror that the public would notice Fai and connect the dots someday.

Eventually the song drew to a close, high little embellishments flitting over the closing phrases. Fai’s foot stayed on the pedal until the last strains of the piano died away. He drew his hands back and it took a few moments for him to compose himself. Hell, the whole room felt a little raw and it wasn’t even their life.

The light indicating recording turned off and he hunched slightly. “So, not too bad, was it?” He slowly glanced up to the window like he couldn’t bear to see their reactions.

He was met with producers in deep concentration and musicians lost in thought. He found Kurogane who gave him a proud grin and a subtle thumbs up. Fai let out a relieved breath and stood up a little unsteadily. “Do you need me more or…?”

Amewarashi was distracted as she answered, already checking the playback, “No, that’s good. We’ll take it. That’s… plenty.”

Kurogane opened the door to the recording space. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Yeah.” Fai answered a little dazed. “That’d be nice.” Kurogane threw Fai’s bag over his own shoulder and guided the blonde out with a hand to his lower back.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Yuuko called as he opened the door to the hallway.

“We’ll be there.” Kurogane nodded a goodbye to the room at large.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fai's song is Do You Feel It? by Chaos Chaos.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Mokona was first out of the limousine door. He knew it would be bright but the reality was so much more than he could have imagined. “Finally!” He grinned so hard his cheeks almost hurt.

“Mokona’s first red carpet!” Maru chimed happily over his left shoulder.  
  
“It’s fun!” Moro called from the other.  
  
The each took an elbow, pushing and pulling him around the carpet, pausing every few steps to pose for another bank of cameras. After a few moments they turned back. A long leg slid out of the car, followed by Yuuko herself. The crowd pressed forward and it was only the line of security guards keeping the scene from devolving into chaos. She walked forward, smirk on her face as she caught up with her band. “It’s good to be back, isn’t it girls?” The twins each wrapped an arm around her waist while Mokona bounced around from place to place, too excited to stand in one spot as they took some of their first paparazzi pictures as an official group.

 

Noone was paying attention by the time Doumeki slid out of the door and Watanuki closed it behind him.  
  
“Was the car ride really necessary? What was that, five blocks?” Doumeki asked.

 

“Of course it was! She has to make an entrance. How stupid would it look if they showed up on foot? Besides, it’s not a ‘car’. It’s a limousine. Just be glad I didn’t make you walk!”

 

“You said Yuuko invited me to ride along.”

 

“Yeah but I’m the one that let you know so, you’re welcome!”

 

Watanuki stumbled as someone jostled into his side. “Hey!” When he looked over his shoulder the security line had allowed the photographers to fill in the pathway behind the rapidly retreating band. They were now caught in a solid wall of people with about ten rows between them and growing further by the second. “And now we’ve gotten separated because of you!”

 

“I’m not the one that stopped to argue.”

 

Watanuki pushed ineffectually at someone’s back. “Um, excuse me! Hello! Excuse me!”

 

“Quit playing around. We’re going to lose them.”

 

“I’m not playing!” He scowled.

 

Doumeki sighed and grabbed Watanuki’s wrist.

 

“Hey what do you think-!”

 

“Come on.” With his extra height and the occasional extremely assertive shoulder, he drug Watanuki slowly but surely to the entrance. The band was gone by the time they got there, but with a flash of his badge Watanuki was let through the entrance and took a moment to breathe, straightening his suit and brushing himself off.

 

He turned when the heard the bouncer’s gruff voice behind him. “ID?”

 

“I’m press.” Doumeki said, starting to reach for his wallet.

 

“Yeah, everyone’s press tonight, buddy. That doesn’t mean you’re getting in. You on the list?”

 

“No,” Watanuki explained. “It’s fine he’s with the band.”

 

“Look, if he’s not on the list, I can’t let him in.”  


“Well, he should be, right? ‘Shizuka Doumeki: Rolling Stones Correspondant’.”

 

“He’s not one here.”

 

“Wait, what? Let me see that.”

 

The guard reluctantly handed over his clip board. Watanuki flipped through it quickly shaking his head. “How did we miss you? See this is why you shouldn’t have fallen behind on the carpet.”

 

Doumeki was growing increasingly impatient. “Am I coming in or not?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses. Jeeze.” Watanuki took a pen from his own jacket pocket and hand wrote something. “There! He can take my ‘plus one’ spot, ok?” He handed the list back to the bouncer hopefully.

 

“You’re supposed to register your guests ahead of time.” The bouncer said doubtfully, caught between his orders and the rank he was just realizing Watanuki held given his name’s position on the list.

 

“Oh, come on! No one ever does that!” Watanuki whined.

 

The bouncer looked between the two of them carefully. “Ok. Fine.” He waved Doumeki through but didn’t look happy about it.

 

Doumeki followed as Watanuki lead them through the club. “Is the crowd always that bad?”

 

“It’s usually worse. That was just press. You should see the fans.”

 

They neared a second bouncer as they approached the VIP tables where the band was already schmoozing. Watanuki showed his badge again but the bouncer was looking expectantly at Doumeki. “Who’s this?”

 

“He’s my plus one!” Watanuki snapped and grabbed Doumeki’s hand to drag him over the threshold before the bouncer could decide to protest.

 

“Sheesh! See if I ever take you anywhere again.” Watanuki weaved through the tables, catching Yuuko’s eye. She gave him a signal and he changed course, headed for the bar. Minutes later, drinks in hand, Watanuki scanned the crowed and spotted some familiar faces. He was yelling a little to be heard over the music. “We can go sit over there. I can introduce you to the guys from last time.”

 

“I thought you were working tonight?”

 

“Yuuko can signal if she needs me.”

 

The table they found was nice, a booth set into an alcove that offered a little privacy while still giving a good view of the VIP section and beyond that the stage. There wasn’t technically a concert tonight, but the band was going to play a few songs later as a surprise.

 

“Ahhh~! Watanuki!” Fai was waving at them as they approached. “Where have you been?” His gaze slid over to Doumeki. “And who is this?”

 

“I’m his plus one.”

 

Fai gave a loud wolf whistle. “Way to go Watanuki!”

 

“What!? No!” Watanuki hurried to settle into the booth, checking to see if anyone was paying attention. It seemed he was lucky this time and everyone was too excited about the band to bother. “He’s just a reporter. He’s doing the Stones piece.”

Fai reached across his boyfriend’s lap to offer a hand. “Nice to meet you Mr…”

 

“Doumeki. Shizuka Doumeki.” He shook it.  
  
 

“A pleasure.” Fai leered. “I’m Fai Flourite. I write music.”

 

“He knows who you are, idiot.” Kurogane cut in. “He was there when you were trying out the new song.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I was lucky to catch it.” Doumeki offered. “You’re a very talented writer and you play beautifully. I look forward to hearing more.” It was the truth after all.

 

Fai’s face lit up and he hid a smile in Kurogane’s neck, practically crawling into the man’s lap. “Did you hear that, Kurgs? I think he liked it!”

 

“Is he already drunk?” Watanuki asked with a grimace.  
  
Kurogane tried to push Fai off his lap, but he could be a clingy bastard. With a face burning red more with anger than embarrassment he ground out, “Yuuko showed up at our house at noon to pre-game. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

 

“Watanuki! Is that you?”

 

Doumeki had a perfect view as Watanuki’s grimace melted away into something like bliss before he turned to greet the new voice.  
  
“Himawari!!” He crooned. “How are you? You look lovely tonight! Is that a new dress? Would you like to sit down?” Doumeki was shoved with more strength than he thought the shorter man had in him in order to squish them close enough to make room for the newcomer.

She sat down cheerfully. “Hi Fai. Kurogane. And who is this?”

 

“Oh him?” Watanuki asked. “That’s just Doumeki.”

 

“I’m his plus one.”

 

Himawari smiled excitedly. “Oh wow! Nice to meet you. How long have you been together?”

           

“What!?” Watanuki shrieked. He turned back to glare at the man in question. “Stop saying it! It sounds weird like that.” His face was quickly turning red as he tried to wave away the implication. “It’s nothing like that. He’s just a friend. Friend? Did I say friend? More like a colleague really…”

 

“Well, nice to meet you anyway. I’m Himawari. I work for Yuuko’s management in PR.”

 

“I’m from Rolling Stone. I’m doing her reunion story.”

 

“Yeah,” Watanuki cut in. “And I’m the poor guy who’s been stuck baby sitting him whenever he comes to the office. As if I didn’t have _important_ work to be doing.”

 

Himawari gasped. “Oh gosh! Watanuki, I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.” Then to Doumeki, “Watanuki’s been helping me out as a favor but I really shouldn’t be taking advantage of him like that. From now on we can work together ok? I hope that’s alright?”

 

“Wait… What do you mean?” Watanuki stopped dead in his tracks.

 

“I’ll escort him from now on. Things have calmed down a little now and I’ve got more time.” Himawari sheepishly smiled.

 

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” Doumeki answered.

 

“What? No… You don’t need to trouble yourself! Besides, Doumeki and I… we’re practically best buddies by now. Isn’t that right, Doumeki?”

 

“We are?” he asked skeptically.  


“Of course we are~!” Watanuki turned to shoot him a death glare that didn’t match his voice.

 

“Well, that’s great to hear! A friend of Watanuki’s is a friend of mine. We should get together all together some time and-” She was interrupted by the sound of chimes. “Oh shoot! Sorry, I just need to check.” She dug a phone out of her pocket. “Oh, I’m sorry you guys. I need to go. It was nice to see you all, though. We’ll have to catch up soon.”

 

With a smile she was gone, leaving the table in a palpable awkward silence.

 

“Such a nice girl.” Fai commented.

 

Watanuki slipped back into the spot she’d left vacant. Was it his imagination or did it still seem warm? He blushed a little at the thought of sharing her body heat. Such an intimate experience.

 

Then he noticed she’d left her drink behind.

 

Did he dare? Did he dare hold that glass that moments before had been held by her hands? Was that… was it just the light or was that a trace of lipstick left behind on the rim? He could reach out. Hold the chalice to his lips, that chalice that had so recently touched the lips of his sweet Himawari. Dare he? Dare he take that indirect kiss from his secret beloved? Dare he drink the dregs of her glass, the liquor forming a secret shared warmth in their stomachs? Could he bare to-

 

Doumeki reached out and drained the glass.

 

“What do you think you’re doing!?” He shrieked. “Do not touch things that don’t belong to you!”

 

“She left it. I don’t think she wanted it.”

 

“It wasn’t yours!”

 

“Then it wasn’t yours either. Don’t be so slow next time.”

 

“How dare you!?”


	5. Chapter 5

            Kurogane and Fai sat opposite each other as they waited. Kurogane read the day’s paper while Fai hid behind huge sunglasses and held his latte like it might contain the meaning of life. The café had a low murmur running but nothing that was too grating on Fai’s sensitive nerves.

 

            On the radio playing softly in the background, the song switched over. It was one of Fai’s own and a personal favorite. Soon his head was bobbing minutely along to the music. “I like what he did with this one. That beat really changes it.” The song had premiered a few weeks ago at number 12 and had been slowly climbing since. It was Fai’s first foray into working with rap artists in a long time and the new sound had been creatively very stimulating.

 

            “Should I learn to play drums?” Kurogane asked.

 

            Fai looked over at him carefully. “Why would you do that?”

 

            “I don’t know. You seem to like them. It could help your writing to have a drummer in the house.”

 

            Fai’s eyes fell back to his latte. “It might make the sex better.”

 

            Kurogane lowered the paper to glance over it at Fai. “If our sex was any better, it would kill you.”

 

            Fai grinned, hiding behind his cardboard cup. “Alright, Mr. Big Talk.”

 

            “'Mr. Big Cock?’ I’m flattered but not your best work when it comes to stupid nicknames.”

 

            “Big ‘Talk’! Not Big ‘Cock’!”

 

            “It is though, right?” Kurogane teased with a strait face. He folded the paper to look at his boyfriend who was affecting disinterest.

 

            “It’s ok.”

 

            “It’s pretty big.”

 

            “I’ve seen bigger.”

 

            Kurogane smirked. “Like you and your whiskey dick can even talk.” It was technically losing to break a strait face, but it was only a game after all.

 

            “Hey!” Fai pouted. “I made it up to you!”

 

            “Yeah, but I’d rather you get it up than make it up.”

 

            A new voice cut in. “Please tell me I’m interrupting and can come back in ten minutes when this is over.” They both glanced up to find Watanuki hanging his messenger bag on the back of the third chair at the table. “Actually, don’t answer that. Just be done when I get back with my drink.”

 

            By the time he returned they both seemed to be behaving themselves and Fai was even feeling human enough to move the sunglasses to the top of his head.

 

            “So…” Fai asked with a grin as Watanuki sat down. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

 

            “My weekend? Um… fine I guess? I spent most of Sunday reading to be honest.”

 

            “And your Saturday night? Anything exciting?”

 

            “You mean… Fai what are you talking about? You were there.”

 

            “Yeah but _after_ the party?”

 

            “I… went home?” Watanuki looked to Kurogane for help. “Can you translate? ‘Cause I don’t get it.”

 

            Kurogane growled like it was physically painful to be engaging in this conversation. “Fai thinks he saw you leave with Doumeki.”

 

            “Is that why you wanted to met up?” Watanuki’s face cleared in understanding. “That’s it!? And to think I could have slept in…” He gave a dismissive wave. “That was nothing. He’d ridden in on the train but there wasn’t anything running by the time everything was over. How stupid right? Like, how long has he lived in this city without figuring out when the trains stop? Anyway, I took pity on him and gave him a ride home.”

 

            “He probably isn’t used to working so late.” Kurogane reasoned. “I’ve never seen a classical concert with an after party that runs past midnight.”

           

            Fai shook his head, grinning. “Kurobabe, you’re missing the point. First of all, I told you so.” Then he turned to Watanuki. “Secondly, you went to his house!? Did you walk him to the door?”

 

            “Well, I mean… It was late and I was kind of too tired to be driving…”

 

            “And?” Fai prompted.  
  
            “He offered me some coffee so I went in.”

 

            “Oh~?” Fai leered, drawing the word out suggestively.

 

            “Can you keep your voice down? Jeeze!” Watanuki glanced over his shoulder, weary of being overheard. “Anyway, it wasn’t anything weird. I just went in. I had coffee. We talked for a few minutes. Then I was driving home. Nothing happened.” Watanuki took a sip of his drink. “And it wasn’t even good coffee so…” Watanuki hadn’t thought of himself as a coffee snob, but he was positive he worked for one. It had been a while since he’d had something that wasn’t fresh roasted, fresh ground and from a county who’s name he couldn’t be sure he was pronouncing correctly.

 

            “Still,” Fai sighed. “Not bad for a first date.”

 

            “It wasn’t a date! Why do you keep saying that? I don’t even like the guy! He’s infuriating!”

 

            “Aww but you look so cute together! And he obviously likes you.”

 

            Watanuki shook his head in disbelief. “You’re crazy. Kurogane, tell him he’s crazy.

 

            Kurogane groaned. “Fai, you are meddling and blowing things out of proportion…”

           

            “Ha!” Watanuki laughed vindictively towards Fai.

 

            “But,” Kurogane went on. “He does find a lot of excuses to be around you, is nicer to you than professionalism dictates and he did chase a few people off of you on Saturday without you noticing.” Watanuki deflated. “Besides, you really think Rolling Stone can’t afford a taxi home for their reporter after work?”

 

            The color drained from Watanuki’s face. “Oh. Oh no! So when I offered to take him home… Do you think he took that the wrong way?” He ran through the memories. There hadn’t been anything romantic. Doumeki had kept his distance. Didn’t make any moves. They just talked about work and the weather. Two guys in a kitchen, drinking coffee.

 

            “I’m not sure how else someone is supposed to take it.” Kurogane unfolded his paper again, a signal that he was done talking about the subject, possibly forever.

 

            Watanuki was calming down, convinced that Doumeki hadn’t misinterpreted his kindness. They were just being ridiculous. “Well excuse me if I don’t take relationship advice from you two.”

 

            “That’s not fair!” Fai whined. “We’re great role models. Just last week our therapist said we were making impressive progress.”

 

            Watanuki laughed under his breath. “Yeah, yeah. Be sure to invite me to the wedding.” He said sarcastically.

 

            Kurogane shook is head. “There isn’t enough paper in the world to write that pre-nup.”

 

            Fai eyed him. “What do you want a pre-nup for? I’m the one with money.”

 

            “Yeah, and _terrible_ decision making abilities.”

 

            “That’s-!” Fai cut himself off. “No, that’s probably fair, actually.” He turned to consider Watanuki. “How much is Yuuko paying you? I’ll double it if you come keep track of me instead.”

 

            “Um… That’s a really generous but I can’t leave Yuuko, right?” Watanuki was keeping it light but the question was a little less rhetorical than a normal person might expect. He hadn’t really read the fine print when he signed with Yuuko. He regretted it daily if not hourly.

 

            “If anyone can get you out of your contract, Kurogane could.” Fai smiled, teasing. “How long is it valid anyway?”

 

            Watanuki laughed, taking a sip of his drink and glancing unconsciously toward the door. “Who can remember?”

 

            Of course he knew. He was counting down the days.

 

            It was a depressingly large number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song on the radio might be 'Love Lockdown' by Kanye West.


	6. Chapter 6

 

            Kamui’s hand reached up into the air, fog curling between the fingers of his cut-off gloves. His gaze was raised to the rafters but to the crowd it seemed like he must see something more. Behind him Subaru and Fuuma took his cue, forming a three-part harmony. “ _This is gospel for the fallen ones, not to wait in permanent slumber. Assembling their philosophies from pieces of broken memories_.” As Fuuma came in on the drums, Kamui let his hand lower, running through his messy hair and down his neck while he sang through the intro. “ _Their gnashing teeth and criminal tongues conspire against the odds. But they haven’t seen the best of us yet_.” Subaru strummed his first chord as the chorus hit and Kamui clutched the collar of his white T-shirt, hunched like someone had punched him in the stomach. “ _If you love me let me go!_ ”

 

            “So far, so good.” Up in the lighting box, Kusanagi felt a little smug. They were nearing the end of the first set without incident. He’d been warned before accepting this assignment. Kamui had punk roots and hadn’t taken kindly to the restrictions being placed on him now that he and his band were under new management.

 

            “Night ‘s not over yet.” Satsuki murmured. She sat back in her chair appreciating the performance. She had preprogrammed her lighting design, so besides waiting for applause, her work was automated. She still sat in though, in case of emergency. Well… and to watch the band. She knew the songs backwards and forward by now, but there was always an element of surprise when Kamui was onstage.

 

            “You see, it’s all about mutual respect.” Kusanagi went on. “I sat him down and calmly explained the rules before the concert. He was meek as a lamb. I don’t see what all the trouble was about.”

 

            “Don’t look now, but…” She pointed to where Kaumi was scaling a pile of amps stage left.

 

            Kusanagi waited, a little on edge. Kaumi was a percher. He knew this. Nothing to panic over. Down on the floor Sorata, one of his security guards, offered Kamui a hand to help him back down to the stage. Instead Kamui veered to the left, carefully balancing on the railing keeping the crowd back.

 

            “What are you doing Sorata?” Kusanagi yelled into his communicator. “You’re enabling him!”

 

            There was no way they’d pick up his voice over the crowd, but Sorata gave an exasperated shrug. What was he supposed to do? Let him fall? Kamui walked, balanced with Sorata’s help, to center stage of the barrier. “ _Don’t try to sleep through the end of the world, or burry me alive._ ” There were desperate hands grabbing at him from converse covered toes all the way up to his chest. Kaumi reached out to touch every hand he could. He didn’t think it was possible to get happier than this. “ _Cause I won’t give up with out a fight_.” He straitened up and turned his back to the audience.

 

            “He wouldn’t.” Kusanagi growled.

 

            “He is.” Satsuki smirked.

 

            Kamui closed his eyes. “ _If you love me let me go_!” He fell back into the waiting hands of his audience.

 

            “Damn it!” Kusanagi swore. The perching could have been talked out of, but crowd surfing had been a hard no. Kamui was going against direct orders now. He and Satsuki waited in tense silence until the singer slipped under the hands, swallowed up by the crowd. “Get him back, Sorata. Now!” Then to Satsuki, “Can you get me in his ear piece?”

            “Yeah,” she hesitated. “But his audio…”

 

            “Fuck his audio.”

 

            She regarded him nervously. “Ok, one second.”

 

Down on the floor Sorata heaved Kamui over one shoulder, one arm around his waist and the other holding a denim clad thigh. He was still singing, an elbow propped against Sorata’s back, mic in one hand and the other trailing along though the crowd. When they reached it, he sat Kamui on the lip of the stage. He rolled on to his back, still singing, pouting at the crowd and tucking a thumb into his skinny jean belt loops. Beside a missing shoe and a rip in his shirt, he looked none the worse for wear.

 

            Satsuki waited until an instrumental break before signaling Kusanagi. “Sir, if you use this microphone, he’ll hear you.”

 

            “Thanks.” He leaned down and activated the mic switch. “Listen you little piece of shit,” Onstage, Kamui faltered. No one had ever commandeered his earpiece before. “You’re not the only one working tonight. I can’t do my job to keep you safe if you jump out of my barriers. So stop being an ass and do your set as rehearsed.”

 

            “Sir, are you sure that’s wise?”

 

            He switched the mic back off. “You just have to show artists there are rules and boundaries.”

 

            Onstage Kamui rolled onto his stomach and rose to standing, then made a beeline for the drum set.

 

            Kusanagi was back in the earpiece. “Don’t you fucking dare. Leave him alone and let him play!”

 

            Instead Kamui grinned, hitched a knee up on Fuuma’s stool and leaned against him bodily. The drummer didn’t react beyond an exasperated smile, too preoccupied with his solo. Kamui let a hand wander down his band mate’s chest, then let his nails drag back up his sternum, wrinkling his tank top and hitching up it’s hem. Below, the crowd was going insane. Kamui threw his head back and raised his mic, licking slowly down the housing then lewdly swirling his tongue around the woven medal of it’s head. He finally let go of Fuuma’s shirt to shoot a middle finger and a matching glare to the lighting box.

 

            “Jesus!” Kusanagi swore. “The fuck does he think he’s doing!?” He could mess up his audio. He could get electrocuted. They would probably be reimbursing the theater for a thousand dollar microphone tonight. Kusanagi had a sinking feeling it might be coming out of his salary. “Cut off his mic. He’s done.”

 

            “But sir-!”

 

            “Do it.”

 

            Onstage Kamui picked up the refrain again but it didn’t make it to the speakers. Frowning, he hit the mic and tried the switches to no success. Undeterred, he spotted Subaru across the stage, who had picked up the lead vocal part in his silence. “ _These words are knives that often leave scars. The fear of falling apart._ _Truth be told, I never was yours._ ” He seemed unfazed but glanced at Kamui in confusion. “ _The fear of falling apart_.”

 

            Kamui slipped away from the drum set, stalking towards his guitarist. He let the mic in his hand fall uselessly on the wooden stage. Kusanagi winced. Make that a definite thousand dollar mic replacement. Subaru for his part, looked a little terrified. It was the only sensible reaction to being approached by Kaumi when we was looking that intense.

 

             Kamui reached out and fisted one hand in Subaru’s shirt and the other on his mic as he drug them both to his own face. Subaru stumbled but his fingers on the frets didn’t, playing on like nothing had happened. Slowly as Subaru realized they hadn’t fallen and that the world wasn’t over, he let himself smile, forever impressed with what Kamui could get away with. What he would dare to do. They switched seamlessly back to their normal parts as they shared the microphone. They ended up finishing the set like that, Kamui’s hand twisted in Subaru’s shirt and grinning at each other from a breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Gospel is by Panic! At The Disco.


	7. Chapter 7

            Yuuko beat her distinctive knock on Kurogane’s door but didn’t wait for a reply before entering. “A fine afternoon to you, Kurogane! Hope I’m not interrupting some lunchtime tryst.”

 

           He didn’t give her much of a greeting, but he didn’t kick her out either. He finished the end of the paragraph he was on before looking up. “On this floor we live in reality. It’s what I like about the department. Not much for tryst-ing.”

 

            “You all lack a sense of romance.”

 

            “And you all lack…” Kurogane searched for a place to start given the sheer number of ways he could end that sentence. “Parents who set boundaries… probably. What do you want?”

 

            Yuuko lounged into one of the armchairs across from Kurogane. He favored a modern style usually; crisp suits and clean lines, but most of his office furniture had been inherited when his father retired. It made for a gorgeous room full of solid wood and worn leather. Yuuko liked her own work space fine, but you just couldn’t fake that kind of history.

 

             “A little birdie tells me Fai tried poaching my Watanuki again.”

 

             Kurogane rolled his eyes. He’d never understood the games of tug-of-war Fai and Yuuko would play. It wasn’t as if Watanuki would ever leave her. She had requested to have his temporary contract extended for ‘forever’ and Kurogane had done his damnedest to make that happen. (Not that Fai or Watanuki needed to know that.) The contract was so incentivized that the kid would have to be insane or pretty desperate to break it, but it would all pay off in ten years or so if he could last that long. “Can you blame him? Watanuki’s a good kid.”

 

            She nodded, eyeing him significantly, “Fai did always have good taste.”

 

             Kurogane returned the look warily, unsure what to do with the indirect complement.

 

            “Expensive taste too.” Her eyes were too bright.

 

            He didn’t like where this was going. “All right. Was there a point to this or are you just feeling social?”

 

             She laughed, crossing her legs. “You know you’re probably one of the few people in the world that takes my voice for granted.”

 

             “I don’t mind it. I just like it more when it’s talking to me during billable

time.” He reached for the letter he’d been proofing before her interruption.

 

            “I want Breathing Fire to be my opening act on tour.” She said, finally getting to the real reason for her interruption. Kurogane left his papers where they were. “I’ll convince Kamui, but I need you to clear everything with legal.”

           

            “That’s not going to be easy. They don’t have a support contract.”

 

            “But it’s possible.”

 

             “And I should drop my actual work to do this why?”

  
  
             She smiled. “Because you still owe me for setting you up with Fai?”

 

              He laughed, honestly laughed at that. “Oh no. You still owe _me_ for that.”

  
  
              She cooed at him. “Oh, you love him. Admit it.”

 

               “Not the point.” He wouldn’t be the lawyer he was if he fell for deflection that easily. “Try again.”

 

              “Because you work for me and it’s your job?”

 

            “I work for the company.”

 

           “There are only twelve bands, so a twelfth of you works for me.”

 

           “Then I’ll write you a twelfth of a contract.”

 

           They sat considering each other over the veneer of the hardwood.

 

           “You’re not usually this obstinate.” She raised an eyebrow, holding his stare.

“There’s something specific you want.”

 

            Kurogane nodded his head slightly. She was so perceptive when she bothered

to look. “You’re going to help Fai get sober.”

 

            She frowned. “That’s his decision, not yours. Forced rehab never sticks. You know that.”

 

            “It _is_ his decision.” He took a small breath. “Someday soon Fai is going to approach you about it. You are going to be a supportive, encouraging friend. You are never going to show up at my house at noon to get my boyfriend drunk on sake again.” His knuckles were a little white around his pen. “Do that and I’ll get you your boy band.”

 

            Yuuko eyed him shrewdly a little longer than he was comfortable with. It wasn’t that complicated of a question, right?

 

            Then she smiled. “Deal.” The tension was broken and they both relaxed in their seats a little. “But they’re not a boy band.”

 

            Kurogane looked at her doubtfully. Wherever that line lay, he was pretty sure they were on the near side of it. “Sure. Boys in a band. Whatever.”

 

She perked up, clasping her hands together. “Well, this is perfect! You two can join us on the tour! He’ll be having so much fun, he won’t even notice the withdrawals.”

 

The idea was so stupid that Kurogane’s brain ground to a halt trying to believe that she’d proposed it. “You think the place to get him on the wagon… is touring with a rock band?”

 

She pouted in mock offense. “Not _a_ rock band, Kurogane. _The_ rock band.”


	8. Chapter 8

Subaru and Fuuma watched in quiet contemplation as Kamui crawled nakedly along the ruined remains of concrete and rebar. He was covered in dust and grit, which speckled artfully across his skin in the warm light and blured the edges of the wing tattoos that so famously drapped down his back.

 

“Cut!” The director called out. “Back to one.”   
  
Up on the concrete he shimmied back a few paces.  
  
Subaru smiled into the cuff of his turtleneck pulled down over his hand, running the ridged knit fabric absently over his lip.

 

“I owe you one.” Fumma murmered a little distantly.

 

“Me?” Subaru asked, almost but not quite turning away from the spectacle. “What did I do?”

 

“They’re your lyrics.”

 

Subaru huffed out a shallow laugh. _All dressed up and naked._ He’d meant it a little more metaphorically but the art team for the video had really latched onto it. Kamui, alone at the end of the world. Exposed to the elements of post-apocalyptic destruction. The pitch had been so well received by costuming and design, and their director was certainly on board. “Maybe, but it takes a village.” Kaumi had been hesitant at first but with that much inertia from the crew he’d been willing to give it a try. To do a visual service to Subaru’s lyrics if nothing else. “I’m surprised at how easy it was to talk him out of his clothes though.”

 

“It always is.” Fuuma admitted quietly, careful of potential eavesdroppers.

 

Despite himself, Subaru felt his cheeks burning a little at the implication. Back on the concrete Kamui was ready for another take. When the shoot began it was only with the assurance that there was only a skeleton crew present and the set would be closed, offering him some privacy. In the past hour they’d watched him go from awkward and self conscious to comfortable and confident. If anything he now looked like he was enjoying himself. He waited patiently then started crawling towards the camera again when the director called ‘action’.

 

Subaru frowned as there was a knock on the door at the back of the studio. “No one is allowed in here. There was a memo.” Fuuma followed his gaze as a crew member went to the door, cracking it open to offer the same chastisement. From their seats to the side of the shoot they caught a glimpse of the person on the other side of the door.

 

“Is that-?” Subaru asked.   
  
“Yuuko Ichihara?” Fuuma seemed in just as much shock.

 

“I’ll distract. You clothe.”

 

“Right.”   


Fuuma was instantly on his feet, Kamui’s previously abandoned jeans and T-shirt in hand. The crew was growing wise to the visit as whispers passed from ear to ear but Kamui sat blithely unaware, enjoying the view from his apocalyptic throne and still lost in the head space of his acting. “Hey Kamui!” Fuuma called up as he started to scale the rubble, gaining that amber-eyed attention.   
  
“Wait! That’s-”

 

There was a sickening crunch underfoot and his stomach flipped as the floor fell out from beneath him. Luckily it was only a few inches. He looked down to find his foot had punched a hole in apparently solid concrete.

 

“Styrofoam.” Kamui winced.

 

Fumma glanced over a shoulder guiltily. He wasn’t sure whose work in particular he had just destroyed but there were a gaggle of crew looking horrified with him.   
  
“Sorry! Sorry.”

 

“The solid stones are on this side.” Kamui gestured. He circled around carefully scaling the pile by Kamui’s pointed directions of which stones were safe and load barring until he was a single level under Kamui’s perch, his chest level with Kamui’s knees where he let his legs swing casually over the edge.

 

“Hey, great work this morning. How about you put some pants on now?” Fuuma held up the denim in offering.   
  
Kamui took them but his effort to put a foot through a leg hole was soon aborted in favor of looking thoughtfully at the fabric in his hands. “Do you ever think about nudist colonies?”

 

“What?” Fuuma had priorities but this knocked him firmly off track.

 

“You know, like… our culture makes such a big deal out of clothes and being naked but like… We’re all born like this, you know? Like, it’s natural.”

 

“Uh… yeah? I guess so.”

 

“And people tell you it’s wrong and dirty. But what about the nudist colonies? They get along fine, right? There’s nothing inherently sexual about being naked so why is everyone so judgmental of it?” Kamui was making no progress in the pants department.

 

“Is that what you were thinking when you gave that stop sign pole a hand job?”

 

“What!?” Kamui was finally knocked out of his philosophizing. “I wasn’t giving it a hand job! God! Sorry to disappoint you, you giant pervert.”

 

“So it wasn’t on purpose?” Fuuma asked blithely. “Then don’t worry about disappointing me. You just won me a bet.” Across the room Subaru was giving him a desperate look over his shoulder.

 

“See this is exactly what I’m talking about!” Kamui hissed, struggling to keep his voice down. “Just because I’m nude suddenly all anyone will see is-”

 

“Kamui!” Fuuma cut in, voice sharp enough that the other man gave pause. “Yuuko Ichihara is at the door and if you don’t put your pants on in the next five seconds you are going to meet her naked.”

 

Kamui’s eyes shot wide open. “Oh my God.” He slipped over the edge, hiding from view next to Fuuma. “Oh my God!”

 

“Yeah. So… pants.”

 

“Jesus! Why didn’t you tell me?” Kamui hissed as he struggled into his too-tight jeans.

 

“I don’t know, man! I tried and then you wanted to talk about nudist colonies and you wouldn’t listen.”

 

Beside him, Kamui threw on his T-shirt and carefully did up his fly. He looked over to his band-mate before peeking his head barely over the edge of the rock he’d just vacated. “Oh my God. It’s her.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“There she is.”

 

“Yeah, man.”

 

“What’s she doing here?”

 

“She must want to talk to you.”   
  
“Why!?”  
  
“Talk to her and find out.”

 

Fuuma surveyed the scene. Yuuko had indeed talked her way into the studio and Subaru was currently acting as host, introducing her to the director and crew heads. He glanced to the side.

 

Kamui was sitting wide-eyed and in shock next to him. “What? What’s wrong?”

 

Big eyes looked up at him in fear. “I can’t do it. I can’t _talk_ to her.”

 

Fuuma’s chest did that little twinge it always did when Kamui looked pitiful like this. He crouched down to talk to him at eye level and put a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Of course you can. You’re a professional and talented musican about to talk to a peer. You have every reason to be proud of your work. If anything her presence is a validation of that.”

 

“Fuuma…” Kamui was starting to look a little teary eyed.

 

“Now you are gonna stand up, get down this rubble pile and talk to her like a human being.”

 

Kamui nodded shakily and he worked his way down the set, Fuuma’s hand guiding him every step of the way. Before he knew it, there he was, face-to-face with his childhood hero.

 

“Wow… Mrs. Ichihara.” He was doing his best to breath evenly. “This is such an honor. You are…” Kamui trailed off, brain signaling everything he wanted to say in one jumbled mess of chaos.  
  
My inspiration.  
  
My idol.  
  
Why I got into music in the first place.

 

“…so tall in person.”


	9. Chapter 9

Doumeki and Himawari made their way awkwardly through a back door, a drunken Watanuki staggering between them, supported by each of their hands around his ribs. As the door shut behind them, the murmur of conversation from the bar was cut off and they were left in cold silence.

 

Well, silent beside...

 

“The thing is,” Watanuki slurred, “I don’t think you even know how pretty your eyes are.”

 

“Oh wow,” She laughed in embarrassment. “It’s really is time to get you home, isn’t it?”

 

“Is he always like this?” Doumeki asked from his other side, ignoring the drunken rambling.

 

“Almost never. I don’t think he realized how strong those nectar shots were.”

 

“No!” Watanuki whined until he had their attention again. “I’m serious Himawari! Sometimes they’re gray. But sometimes they’re almost black. No one writes songs about dark eyes but I’m gonna. Gonna write a song about your eyes. I could sing too.” He turned to her in drunken earnestness. “They’re so pretty.”

 

“Um… thanks?” She cringed. “Are you sure you’re ok with him, Doumeki? It seems a shame you leaving your own party.”

 

“No, it’s fine.” He said frowning at the drunken mess of a friend on his shoulder. “There will be other publications.” Other career defining stories he’d been working on for months coming out in Rolling Stone? Possibly not.   
  
He hoped.

 

But…

 

“Oi. Keys.” They propped Watanuki against the side of his car to let him search his pockets. Doumeki hadn’t brought his own car when Watanuki had offered to be designated driver but when it was clear that wasn’t happening, Doumeki had stuck to water.

 

“My name isn’t ‘Oi’!” Watanuki spat, getting up in Doumeki’s face but dropping his key ring into his waiting palm regardless.

 

“So you keep saying.” He murmured under his breath, opening the passenger side door and pushing him bodily into the seat. As he got the door closed a hand brushed his elbow.

 

“Really,” Himawari said, smiling up at him. “Thanks for taking care of him.”

 

He stopped to consider her. “No problem.”

 

“I better…” She pointed a thumb vaguely back over her shoulder. “Text me when you get home safe, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” He nodded.

 

“Thanks.” She smiled and slipped back into the warm light of the bar. When he turned back, Watanuki was scowling at him through the window. With a heavy sigh he walked around and climbed into the driver’s seat.

 

“I see what you’re up to.” Watanuki glared from the passenger’s seat.

 

Doumeki grit his teeth. “Put on your seat belt, Watanuki.”

 

“I’m watching you, you know! And she’s waaaay out of your league, buddy.”

 

“Seat belt.”

 

“So don’t even try anything.”

 

With a growl Doumeki reached across and did the buckle himself, much to a resistant Watanuki’s displeasure.

 

“Where do you live?”

 

“What’s it to you?” Watanuki spat as he flipped through the messages on his phone.

 

With the patience of a saint, Doumeki sighed and tried again. “You need to go home. Where is that?”

 

“Like I’d tell you, pervert.”

 

Doumeki’s patience snapped and he grabbed the phone out of Watanuki’s hands. The drunken man shrieked but Doumeki fended off his attempts to get it back with one hand. With the other he looked up the phone’s emergency contact page and found the address that way. It was short work to set up the phone to navigate them there. He dropped in the driver’s door pocket, safely out of his passenger’s grasp.

 

“Fuck you, Doumeki!” Watanuki yelled, but the man in question didn’t react. Just pulled out on to the street. They simmered in silence for a few minutes as city blocks became highway. “It’s not fair.”

 

Doumeki took a steadying breath. “What isn’t?”

 

“Yuuko and Fai do this all the time. _One_ time, I’m the one that gets too drunk, and suddenly _I’m_ the asshole?”

 

Doumeki didn’t have anything to say to that. It was a fair point probably.

 

In the glove compartment, Watanuki dug out a package of cigarettes and Doumeki heard the hiss of a lighter.

 

“Don’t.” he warned.

 

“It’s my fucking car.” Watanuki took a deep drag and sighed it out. “God, you’re annoying.”

 

“How do you like it?” Doumeki asked tightly.

 

“What?”

 

“Being the asshole for once.” Doumeki slowed to a stop at a red light. He looked over to find Watanuki glaring daggers in his direction. In lieu of a response, he breathed out a lungful of smoke in Doumeki’s face.

 

Doumeki sat there stunned and frozen, glaring his own rage at the man sitting next to him, neither willing to back down. It wasn’t until he saw the light reflected off of Watanuki’s glasses turn green that he turned back to the road and eased onto the accelerator, hyper concentrated on driving safely given how angry he was.

 

“Yuuko said you could come on tour with us.”

 

“What?” It was such a non sequitur that he didn’t understand for a moment.

 

Watanuki was crowding up to him now, straining against his seat belt. “We don’t really need a reporter with us, but seeing as how we’re such good _friends,_ ” he pushed a knuckle roughly against Doumeki’s jaw to emphasize the word. “She said I could invite you if I wanted.” In any other situation it probably could have been an affectionate gesture.

 

“Don’t touch me.” Doumeki growled.

 

Watanuki settled back into his own seat. There was blessed silence for a few moments.

 

“Well, aren’t you gonna ask?”

 

Doumeki sighed heavily, already bracing himself for the answer. It would have been great for his career. It would have been great for a lot of reasons. “Are you inviting me on tour?”

 

Watanuki’s cruel laughter hit him like a punch to the gut. “Are you fucking kidding?” he sneered.

 

There was another puff of smoke blown in Doumeki’s direction.


	10. Chapter 10

 

The first thing Doumeki became aware of was birdsong. Something he hadn’t herd like this in years, ever since moving to his new apartment in the city. Next came the delicious smell of bacon and finally a movement at his back.

 

“Mmmm?” He groaned.

 

There was a cold, wet nose and then a hot tongue against the back of his neck.

 

“Mmmuhhg!?” He rolled over to find Mugetsu sitting on the pillow of the empty side of the bed.  
  
Mugetsu?

 

So this must be…

 

Watanuki’s house.

 

Memories from the night before flooded in unbidden.

 

Watanuki trying and failing to unlock his house.

 

Holding his glasses as was sick in the toilet.

 

Making the decision he was too angry to drive safely and claiming the guest room bed.

 

Doumeki watched as Mugetsu wagged his tail in complete disregard for how miserable he felt. He tried to muster a glare for the dog, but there wasn’t anything left. He was just exhausted. Empty.

 

He rolled over again and was surprised to find a folded note on the side table with his name on it. He knew Watanuki’s handwriting by now. He picked it up, half afraid of what he’d find.

 

I’m so sorry for last night.

I don’t deserve it but

I’d like a chance to explain.

I’m in the kitchen if you’d like to talk.

If not, there is a back door.

I think you still have my keys.  
You can use my car.

 

He let out a tired sigh and drug a hand over his face.

 

It was later after a few minutes in the bathroom that he followed the noise of cooking and braved the kitchen. Watanuki was frozen as he entered, a spatula in one hand and the other covering the dial of the mixer in the off position. He was showered and in a clean set of house clothes. He even had on an apron. But he looked wrecked. There were bags under his eyes and it didn’t look like he’d slept a moment the night before.

 

“Hey.” Doumeki said, breaking the silence but hovering at the entrance to the room.

 

It looked like a painful effort for Watanuki to look up at him. “Hey.” He answered. There was a hesitant smile as he set the spatula on the counter. “You didn’t leave.”

 

“Yet.” Doumeki warned.

 

The smile vanished from Watanuki’s face. He swallowed visibly. “Oh. Um…” His gaze fell to the stove as he grabbed a plate and started filling it with bacon and eggs. “I made breakfast if you…” He couldn’t make eye contact and he couldn’t finish his sentence.

 

Doumeki sighed and his posture finally softened. “Sure.” He said, taking pity on the man and sitting down at the counter.

 

Watanuki seemed relieved and they settled into a delicate truce.

 

“Aren’t you hungover?” Doumeki asked quietly as he accepted his plate.

 

Watanuki smiled ruefully. “Yes. Very much so.”  
  
“Then what are you doing up?”

 

“I couldn’t sleep.” Watanuki said as he sat primly on the furthest stool, as far away from Doumeki as he could be while still technically sharing the counter top. “And cooking usually helps me calm down.”

 

“Aren’t you going to take a plate?”

 

“Maybe later. I’m- I’m not really hungry.”

 

Doumeki let it rest, taking a bite of his own food. It was good. It always was.

 

The silence drug thick as molasses and sour as vinegar.

 

“Look,” Wanuki tried, staring at the glass of water in his hands. “About last night… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. And of course you can come on tour. I was being drunk and a bastard and you probably don’t even want to anymore but you can.”

 

“Then why didn’t you mention the tour before last night?”

 

“I-” Watanuki looked desperately anywhere but Doumeki.

 

“You know I like you, right?”

 

For a moment it looked like Watanuki might deny it, but then his face crumpled miserably and he finally met Doumeki’s eyes. “Yeah.”

 

Now it was Doumeki’s turn to look away, poking at his eggs with his fork. “Maybe I read things wrong. I thought-” He stopped himself. “It doesn’t matter. If you’d be uncomfortable with me on tour, it’s fine. You just have to say ‘no’. You don’t have to do all this…” Doumeki gestured helplessly at the situation in general. “We’re adults right? I can take a rejection. I’m not going to take anything out on you.” He turned the same piece of bacon over a few times, riding out the silence. “Or the band.” He added as an after thought. “Nothing like that is going to happen.”

 

He looked up, but Watanuki didn’t meet his gaze, instead staring down his water. His hands on the glass were shaking.

 

“Just don’t hate me, ok?”

 

“I don’t.” Watanuki said, and his voice was tight. “I don’t hate you. And that’s the problem. I think I-”

 

The slightly maniac laughter caught Doumeki off guard.

 

Watanuki looked up at him, face clearly horrified. “I think I like you.”

 

“Oh.” Doumeki said quietly. Somehow that was nowhere near as satisfying to hear as it had been in his daydreams. “That’s not so bad, right?”

 

Watanuki’s shaking had only gotten worse with the confession. “Well, it kind of is because I know I’m in love with Himawari, too. And I’m not sure what to do with that.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Outside the birds were singing.

 

Doumeki gathered the last of the eggs onto a fork and ate them. “What’s in the mixer?”

 

“What?”

 

“The mixer.” Doumeki pointed with a fork. “What were you making?”

 

“Uh… muffins?”

 

“Do you want any help?”

 

Watanuki looked at him like he’d gone insane. “I’m sorry. Don’t we need to like… talk about this first?”

 

“Well,” Doumeki said, standing up to take his plate to the sink. “It sounds like your problem to figure out at this point.” He drifted to the mixer and stuck a finger in the batter to taste it. “Not mine.”

 

“Uhhg! Use a spoon or wash your hands to do that.”

 

“This is pretty good.”

 

“Of course it is!” Watanuki snapped. “ _I_ made it.”


	11. Chapter 11

 

Doumeki had seen 200 piece symphonies travel smoother than the seven artists finally being wrangled into their seats now. What they lacked in number they made up for in complete inability to follow directions or keep a schedule.

 

They were on a private jet, (A rented one. Yuuko’s wasn’t big enough for all the support crew.) in a private airfield and half the artists had still managed to get lost between one side of the warehouse and the other.

 

The set up of the plane was fairly normal, rows of plush seats, most with one or two people to them. Plenty of room to spread out. Every few rows there was a place set aside for the tables they could use once airborn. There was a short announcement from the captain, a safety demonstration from the stewardess and then they were off, flying towards the golden coast.

 

Just as the jet reached cruising altitude a man from the back was accompanied to the front of the plane where all could see him. He wore conservative business clothes and neatly trimmed dark hair. His eyes were reserved but friendly behind his glasses.

 

“Excuse me.” He said, alerting anyone who wasn’t already staring at him. “While we’re all gathered in one place, I’d just like to make a short announcement.” The man surveyed his audience. “My name is Seishiro Sakurazuka. I know some of you have met me already, but I’d like to formally introduce myself as your new head of security. The artists and technicians on this plane represent a huge portion of the company’s assets and investments and it’s my job to keep you safe.” He smiled, catching a few eyes. “From another point of view, I think it’s fair to say this plane holds some of the best artists of our time. I consider my responsibility to go far beyond the corporate. I hope you’ll agree.” His tone slipped back towards professional. “Each of you has, in your seat back pocket, a manual I have written that outlines this tours safety guidelines and procedures. I realize that some of them may feel restrictive, but included is what I feel to be a satisfactory justification of the stricter policies.” He started to wander slowly down the aisle. “Now, I know there is inherent rebellion is rock music, but I want you to understand, I’m here to work with you, not against you. We are a team, and it is each and everyone of our responsibilities to keep each other safe. If anyone…” and here he paused, looking at Kamui but not unkindly. “Anyone at all has a complaint or request, I am happy to speak to you about it.” He started walking again, back to his own seat. “My door is always open. Thank you.”

 

Fai watched as he sat down, then turned when there was a ding and the ‘fasten seat belt’ light went off. He settled back in his chair, leaning against Kurogane’s broad shoulder and reaching out to flip idly through the manual. “Is ‘Sakura’ just a really common Japanese name or…?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“How come I meet so many then?”

 

“I don’t know. Why do I meet so many white guys named ‘Brad’?”

 

Fai looked up at him. “Do you really?” Kurogane just rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a Brad. I think they only exist on TV.”   
  
Fai flipped a few more pages.

 

“This Seisakura guy-”  
  
“Seishiro.” Kurogane corrected.

 

“This Seishiro guy is a barrel of laughs.” Fai held up the second page of the table of contents. “Evacuation in event of Fire. Evacuation in even of Hurricane.” Fai gasped. “Procedure in event of Assassination.”   
  
Kurogane finally looked at the paper, brow creased. Ok, yeah that was… that was weird. “It’s got to be a joke, right?”

 

“If it is, it’s a funny sense of humor.” Fai flipped to the third page and read the final few lines. “Procedure in event of Terrorist Coup. Procedure in case of Apocalyptic Cataclysm. FAQ. Index. Useful numbers.” Fai blinked back up at him.

 

Kurogane twisted in his seat, trying to get a glimpse of the man. Instead Yuuko was in the seat behind him, grinning. “I take it you’ve found the manual?”

 

“Weird, right?”

 

“Well,” She said with an amused shrug. “At least he’s thorough.”

 

Behind her, Watanuki’s head popped up. “None of that’s going to happen though, right?” He laughed thinly.

 

“A fire could, easily.” Yuuko said. “Theaters are dangerous.”

 

“Ok but… hurricanes and political stuff?”

 

She smiled. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

 

Doumeki’s head popped up next to Watanuki’s. “Have you guys seen this? Page 36. ‘Should the aforementioned methods of food procurement be unsuccessful, please choose a member of your surviving party to sacrifice as sustenance according to the following ranking system.’” He turned the page so they could see. “There’s a chart.”   
  
“Ha!” Yuuko laughed, grabbing the paper to see for herself. “Seniority rules. I get eaten last.”

 

“Ooo! Where am I?” asked Fai.   


“Pretty high up.” She said, doing some math in her head. “But not above Kurogane.”

 

“But that doesn’t make any sense! Look how big he is. You could feed a lot more people off him than me.”

 

Kurogane was looking deeply uncomfortable.

 

“That’s exactly the problem.” Yuuko went on. “All those muscles must be tough. It really brings down his ‘deliciousness’ value.”

 

“Deliciousness is a factor?” Kurogane asked.

 

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Watanuki piped up.

 

Four pairs of eyes were instantly starring at him.

 

He went beet red. “No! I just mean- Because if you-” The others were giving each other side eyes while Yuuko just leered at him. “You know what? Never mind! I’m done. I am out of this conversation.” He disappeared again behind upholstery. Doumeki just gave them a look before joining him.

 

Towards the back of the plane they could see Seishiro chuckling to himself over a SkyMall catalog.

 

“Well,” Fai mused. “At least when I die, I’ll know I died deliciously.”

 

“No one is going to eat you.” Kurogane sighed.

 

“Because you’re going to protect me?” Fai asked, tucking his chin behind a shoulder coquettishly.

 

“No. I mean, yeah, I would. Hypothetically.”

 

“Because I’m so ‘delicious’.” Fai interrupted with a shit-eating grin.

 

Kurogane ignored him. “But I won’t have to because _none_ of the stuff in that book is going to happen.”

 

“Lost luggage might. I mean… statistically what are the chances that-”

 

“Fai! You know what I mean!”

 

“Boys!” Yuuko’s voice rose to interrupt their bickering. “I’ll just make sure Watanuki always makes us plenty of snacks. Problem solved.”

 

Kurogane huffed and sat back down, the headphones a clear signal he was done.

 

Fai rested his chin in a hand, grinning to his friend. “Who knew the end of the world would be catered?”


	12. Chapter 12

            By the time the flight was over, Doumeki and Watanuki were more than a little desperate to get off the plane. Doumeki had hoped their rock music roots might have spared him, but apparently Choral Murphy’s Law held true. No matter the genre, age, or professional level, any group of singers on a mode of transportation _will_ sing Disney show tunes at some point on the trip.

 

            ‘Some point’ in this case being essentially the entire time.

 

            It had all started with Fai asking Subaru to teach him to play “Reindeer are Better than People” on guitar so he could tease Kurogane with it. Which lead to Yuuko asking where the song was from. Which lead to Maru and Moro insisting she watch Frozen right that minute. Which lead to about 3 hours of variations on “Let it Go” from two bands and their various back up singers.  
  
           The video would probably go viral which was great press for the tour, but at what cost?

           Kurogane had looked relatively unaffected. He’d brought noise canceling headphones. Clearly he’d learned from prior experience.

 

            As they exited the air bridge they were hit with a smattering of bright lights. The private airfield they’d come from was a luxury that unfortunately didn’t work out logistically for their landing, and the LA paparazzi were here to greet them.

 

            The pair winced but the lights quickly died down. They weren’t the stars after all. Doumeki tugged on Watanuki’s elbow and they found a bank of chairs to wait at while the group deplaned.

 

            First off were Maru and Moro, still fighting over who had to carry the dog carrier. “It’s your turn to hold Mugu.” Moro said, slipping the strap onto her twin’s shoulder.

 

             Maru scowled, pushing the strap back. “No! I did it last time. It’s yours!” They fought over it, actually blocking the exit with their wrestling until Mokona came up behind them.

 

             “It’s my turn!” He said stealing the carrier from between them and retreating quickly into one of the shops.

 

           “Wait, I wanted him!” “It’s _my_ turn!” The girls ran after him. A few photographers followed, but most stayed as the next person off the plane was Miss Ichihara.

 

          She took a deep breath and smiled. “You have to love that west coast ocean air, am I right?” She addressed the crowd of paparazzi, posing for them politely. They were overjoyed as she continued walking into their mix. “How are you all today? Enjoying the weather? I hope you all get to go to the beach today after this.” She wove her way through the throng until she spotted a familiar logo.

 

            “Ah! Channel Green.” The man she was addressing lowered his camera. He was slight with dirty blonde hair that he wore in that asymmetric undercut so favored by SoCal hipsters at the moment.

 

            “Me?” He asked, dazed at being addressed by the woman.

 

            “So you must be Kazahaya?”

 

            He looked overjoyed. “You know who I am!?”

 

            “Of course,” She smiled. “Your boss mentioned you would be here.”

 

            “My boss?” He looked confused. “Rikuo knows you?”

 

            “Kakei.”

 

            “Oh.” The look on the young man’s face took on a distinctly worried air. She had just name checked the director of their entire brand. “ _He_ knows who I am?”

 

            Yuuko went on, cheerful as ever. “Be a dear and let him know I expect a meeting with him by tomorrow evening, yes?”

 

            “Uh… yes? I mean, I’ll try. I’m not even sure how…” But she was gone, trailing after her band mates.

 

            While this had all been going on Breathing Fire had slipped past the radar. They had plain jackets and big sunglasses. As far as disguises went, they weren’t even that good, but what sane Paparazzo would bother when Yuuko Ichihara had deigned to talk to them?  
  
            Last off the flight before crew were Kurogane and Fai. They slipped quietly away to join Watanuki and Doumeki.

 

            “How are you two holding up?” Kurogane asked. Beside him, Fai had a foot on a seat, stretching out the stiffness from he flight.

 

            “Been better.” Doumkei answered, the headache from the singing still going full force in his temple.

 

            “I need a cigarette.” Watanuki complained. “Like, three hours ago.”

 

            “You think that’s bad, just wait for the Pacific.” Kurogane laughed.

 

            Doumeki shot him a concerned look. Kurogane just smirked. Ah yes, he remembered those days, stuck in a small metal tube, miles above the Earth while your addict boyfriend takes his withdrawals out on you. Not that he was feeling particularly charitable. At least Doumeki was only up against nicotine. It had usually been cocaine in his day.

 

Kurogane turned to consider said former addict. “How’s your leg?”

 

            “I’m fine Kuro.” Fai was smiling but there was a sharpness to his tone.

 

            “I told you. Just because the seats are soft doesn’t mean they’re supportive. Let me carry your bag at least.”

 

            “No.” Fai snatched his bag back and was gone before anyone could stop him, already headed towards baggage claim.

 

            “Is he ok?” Doumeki prompted when Kurogane and Watanuki seemed content to ignore the harsh exit.

 

            Kurogane just shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a little space, right?”

 

            They didn’t spot him at baggage claim either. Watanuki wasn’t entirely surprised when the blonde appeared at his shoulder just as he entered the smoking area on the curb.

 

            “You have an extra?” Fai asked.

 

            “You don’t smoke anymore.” Even as he said it he handed Fai a cigarette. Watanuki flicked his lighter and they used the same flame. They both took indulgent drags and sighed out the smoke.

 

            “I don’t.” Fai said after a moment. “I’m just here to keep you company.”

 

            “Mmm hmm.” Watanuki murmured skeptically.

 

            “I’m not _smoking_ smoking. I’m just stressed from the flight.”

 

            Watanuki snorted under his breath. He’d been fine on the flight, belting Queen Elsa’s lyrics at the top of his lungs. “Look, Fai, I’m not the one you have to convince.”

 

            Fai took a deep breath. It was full of car exhaust and second hand smoke and somewhere on the edges, ocean salt. “Here.” He handed back his half finished cigarette. Watanuki took it without comment. “I better go find my baggage.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a CLAMP fic near and dear to my heart that has been sitting on my computer for years as I'll write it, decide it's terrible, re-write it and generally get paralyzed in knowing it's not as good as it could be. This fic is supposed to be the opposite of that. I usually get hit with an idea and have it posted within an hour or two for the sake of actually getting the story out before I can get cold feet. 
> 
> In the spirit of that, have this chapter which went a lot farther than I thought it was going to.

 

Outside the sun was shining, the air was fresh and the waves beat rhythmically against the shore. Fai had left their windows wide open, appreciating the view. Kurogane was more concerned about the view he had now, but he wouldn’t deny that the breeze stirring the curtains and on his own bare skin wasn’t a nice touch.

 

“Kurgy please!” Fai was panting, his arms wrapped around Kurgoane’s shoulders, trying in vain to pull the stronger man down.

 

Kurogane smirked, not moving. He was holding himself above Fai, just far enough that the blonde, try as he might, couldn’t find any satisfying friction. Whenever Kurogane got tired of pushups at the gym, he thought of moments like these, and managed a few more sets. Like any of the many labors he undertook for the sake of the blonde, it always turned out to be so worth it.

 

“Please what?” Kurogane growled, low and filthy in his ear.

 

“Anything!” Fai moaned against his chin. “Fuck me! Touch me! Please! I don’t care just-”

 

Kurogane silenced him with a crushing kiss. A moan ripped out of Fai only to be muted in his own mouth. Fai surrendered to the touch, eager and open beneath him, tasting of sweet and salt and the unmistakable taste of smoke. He’d noticed. Of course he’d noticed as soon as they began, but he hadn’t said anything. This was probably one of those instances of ‘healthy boundaries’ their therapist was always talking about.  
  
He hoped so anyway. It felt right. He’d rather be doing this than fighting over it.

 

Kurogane ground his hips down, three indulgent rolls as he and Fai moaned into each other’s mouths, then he pulled back again. As much as he wanted to keep going, what he _really_ wanted was to see Fai lose control.

 

Just like he hoped, Fai’s hips instinctively followed his, wiry muscles straining to lift his hips in a bridge position underneath him. Fai was pushing against the crease between his thigh and pelvis in shuddering thrusts while on the pillow his head was thrown to the side, lips latched around his wrist. Fai was totally and unselfconsciously lost to lust, sucking, nibbling and moaning into that one piece of his lovers flesh he could reach and Kurogane’s breath caught in his throat. He let out his own groan as he moved, shifting his weight slightly to the one hand at Fai’s mouth and finally wrapping his free one around himself.  
  
“Come on Fai. Like this. Do it like this.”

 

Beneath him Fai opened his mouth wide to bite down hard around his wrist. It was too broad to break skin but it was still just the right kind of pain that had Kurogane cursing brokenly.

 

“Come on. You can do it.”

 

Underneath him Fai shifted a foot to push even harder. He got a few thrusts in. One. Two. Then spasmed back with a grimace and a broken yelp.

 

It wasn’t like Fai didn’t get a little masochistic sometimes, but years in Fai’s bed had taught him the subtle difference between a ‘hurts so good’ gasp and a ‘hurts so bad’ gasp. Fai didn’t even have time to voice a complaint before Kurogane had backed off, kneeling between his legs. With a practiced motion he tugged down on Fai’s thigh, popping the hip joint back into alignment. Next he crossed Fai’s knee across his body, stretching out the muscles. With his free hand he massaged broadly along his flank, easing the chronically pinched nerve.

 

Fai’s grimace quickly disappeared, pain subsiding as suddenly as it had come.

 

“You ok?” Kurogane asked evenly.  
  
“Yeah.” Fai nodded, out of breath. “Can we not-? I mean, can we, but can we but not like that?”

 

“Yeah, of course.” Kurogane let Fai’s leg go and set a forearm across his hip bones. If Fai’s hip was bothering him, he’d just make sure it didn’t have a chance to move. He could improvise.

 

Fai groaned above him as Kurogane leaned forward to nuzzle along his lover’s pelvis. “Yes. Wonderful idea.” Fai said breathily.

 

On the bedside table a familiar chime interrupted them. Kurogane froze.

 

“No.” Fai begged. “Please don’t answer that.”

 

“It could be important.”

 

“More important than this!?”

 

“I-”

 

But Fai shot him a desperate look.

 

“Ok, fine. Just check who it is.”

 

Fai twisted to hold the phone where it was still charging. “Which button?”

 

“You have to slide it.”  
  
“Right… uh… It’s your parents.”

 

“Kay.” Kurogane nodded, turning back to kiss the skin of Fai’s stomach.

 

A tiny and familiar voice sounded from the phone. “Kurogane? Hello? Kurogane?"

 

They both froze. “Did you answer it?” Kurogane hissed in a whisper.

 

Fai’s eyes were wide and panicked. “I didn’t mean to! Obviously!” He whispered back.

 

Kurogane cursed as he hurriedly crawled up Fai’s body until he could reach the phone. “Shit. You did.”  
  
“Your phone is confusing, ok?” He hissed. “Buy an iPhone like a normal person!”

 

“This is what you get for being a sheep!” Kurogane’s hand was getting way to close to his ear for Fai’s taste.

 

“Just hang up! Call them back!” He whispered desperately.

 

“Hi Mom!” Kurogane greeted, sitting down, straddling Fai’s waist. Fai beat ineffectually at the heavy thighs and tried a valiant wiggle but couldn’t escape. “Yeah I know there must be something weird with my phone. Fai?” Kurogane looked down and the man in question grabbed a corner of the sheets to hide his embarrassment behind. “He’s doing great. Loving California. Uh huh. Yeah. No. Really? No kidding? Well good for him. I’m not sure let me check.” He tapped twice on Fai’s ribs and the blonde lowered the sheet, but the look on his face was murder. “You know what, he’s actually a little tied up at the moment. I better ask him later. No. Yeah. Of course. Say hi to Dad for me, Ok? Love you too. Bye.”  
  
Kurogane shut off the phone and threw it on the other side of the bed. “What?”

 

“I can’t believe you just did that.” Fai said.

 

“Yeah, you answered the phone, remember?”

 

“You could have just hung up.”

 

It was true, but in the moment… Fai hadn’t been the only one panicking. He sighed looking down at his petulant lover. This argument would go nowhere fast. Teasing was one thing but Fai was starting to look way more annoyed than aroused.

 

Time to pull out an Old Faithful.

 

He shifted back before grabbing Fai’s thighs to pull him bodily a few feet down the bed. In the next moment he prowled back over his torso, grabbing Fai’s arms in the confusion and pinning those slender wrists against the sheets high above his head. “Are you going to sit there embarrassed?” Kurogane’s voice was hard. He lowered down until his sharp eyes were inches from wide blue ones, “Or are we gonna finish this?”

 

Fai swallowed visibly. He managed a breathy, “Kuro…” and the hands in his grasp were shaking.

 

“Well?”

 

“Yes! Finish!” Fai gasped, hips writhing helplessly up against him.

 

“Oh no.” Kurogane said, “Not that again.” Without warning he flipped Fai onto his stomach and manhandled him onto hands and knees where he wouldn’t be able to re-pinch the nerve. Kurogane pushed those slender knees together and with a quick coat of lube he was thrusting into the sweet heat between the tops of those gorgeous long thighs. With his clean hand, he buried his fingers in golden locks, fisting to pull hair.

 

“Kuro!”

 

Ahhh…. There was the ‘hurts so good’ gasp.

 

He pushed down with his fist firmly until Fai’s arms gave out and his cheek hit the mattress below. His face shifted against the sheets in time with Kurogane’s thrusting from behind. He was open mouth panting and the one eye Kurogane could see was blown out in arousal, watching him over his shoulder.

 

“Kurgs.” Fai murmured, waving a hand weakly to get his attention, as if he didn’t already have it. “Kurgs wait.” Above him Kurogane stilled, but didn’t pull away. “Is that _all_ you had in mind?”  
  
Kurogane took a steadying breath. “You wanted me to actually fuck you?”

 

Fai nodded looking up at him with a bitten lip. “Hard.”

 

Kurogane wheezed and pulled away, closing his eyes and breathing very, very carefully. It was long seconds before he opened them again. Fuck it. Fai’d been limping since the plane anyway. “Are you close? ‘Cause this isn’t going to last very long.”

 

Fai nodded against the sheet. “I’m ready. I’m ready. Don’t worry.”

 

Fai hissed against the sheets as Kurogane’s lube slicked knuckle entered him. The stretch was painful as ever but Kurogane’s fingers were gentle even as they worked quickly. It wasn’t long at all before the massage became more of a tease. “Kuro!” Fai whined. “Please. I don’t want to come like this!”

 

The fingers left and Fai yelled out as Kurogane entered him in one quick thrust. “Yes, Kuro, Please!” Behind him Kurogane groaned brokenly and the sound was like molten lava down his spine. “Fuck-” Fai gasped. “I’m gonna-”

 

“No!” The command was fierce in his ear. “You wait.”

 

Kurogane was thrusting now and his body was dragging him towards the edge. “I can’t-” He panted, fighting and losing against the heat tearing through his body. “Kurgy, I can’t-”

 

“Yes, you can!” The voice was like an order and somehow his body listened. He was frozen, gasping through a tight throat, every muscle tense, teetering on the edge of oblivion, impossible heat washing through him.

 

“Now!” Fai let go with a scream as orgasm ripped through him. Behind him Kurogane was cursing his own climax, lips against his spine and he was lost to the heat and pleasure and sensation of it all.

 

It was long minutes of tender aftershocks later that he finally caught his breath.

 

Gingerly he turned to look over his shoulder. Kurogane looked about a wrecked as he felt. “That was…” He gave up with a huff. He tapped at Kurogane’s hips impatiently and he pulled out carefully. Fai turned to face him, slotting into his arms.

 

“You were really good.” Fai breathed, brain still not back enough for complicated sentences.

 

Kurogane huffed a smile. “Thanks?”

 

Fai contemplated something hazily in the afterglow.  
  
“I was really good, too.”

 

Kurgoane laughed, throwing his leg across Fai’s hips and pulling him close with his clean hand. “You were perfect.” He murmured with a sex-graveled voice before pulling him into a sound kiss.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midnight by Caravan Palace

 

There were not many constants in LA and even fewer in Hollywood. Trends came and went. There was always someone younger and prettier. Success one day could be ruin the next. But there were always the sunsets. There was always traffic. And there was always Kakei.

 

As long as anyone could remember, he’d been moving behind the scenes, surfing popular opinion, dealing in rumor and weaving the mythos around modern day idols, feeding it to the masses. Not many knew who he was but those that sensed the rocks below the eddies did.

 

He was currently scrolling down his twitter feed, waiting for his date. She was late as always.

 

“Kakei!” Yuuko entered the lobby as the doors were opened for her. She’d dressed for the occasion and he was glad he’d opted for the suit.

 

He stood smiling, offering her a warm embrace. “Yuuko, my god. Just as gorgeous as ever.”

 

“You old flatterer.” She said, kissing each of his cheeks. “You’re just the same. You’ll have to tell me who your surgeon is.”

 

He grinned, offering an elbow. “Now Yuuko, you know a lady doesn’t nip, tuck and tell.”

 

She took it and they walked down the hallway, bass beat bleeding through the walls around them. “Not even for a friend?”

 

“You hardly need it. What’s your secret?”

 

“Hard work and clean living.”

 

Kakei laughed good-naturedly.

 

He opened a door to reveal an unmarked bar in full swing. It was a luxurious affair with a speakeasy vibe and a remixed jazz ballad lilting though the air. They strolled through a few groups, but the patrons kept to themselves. Just as Kakei’s reporters always happened to be in the right place at the right time, he also knew where to go for a little anonymity.

 

“What can I get you to start off?” He asked, flagging down a bartender.

 

“Something strong.” She grinned.

 

“Of course. You must be dying of thirst with your dry tour.”

 

“And how did you know that?” She was impressed. The tour hadn’t even officially begun yet.

 

“A little birdie told me. Watch Kamui, by the way. He’s careless.” He handed her a glass of amber liquid almost as old as they were. “Though I can’t imagine what drove you to it.”

 

“Doing a friend a favor.” She didn’t offer details. She didn’t need to.

 

“You don’t say.” He mused, gears already turning. Then he held up his glass. “To sobriety.”

 

She clinked her glass against his. “May it always be someone else’s!” She didn’t censor the happy moan as the liquor burned pleasantly down her throat.

 

A few drinks later, they’d made their way to a quiet corner table and their intended topic of discussion.

 

“Are you sure he’s up to it?” Yuuko asked.

 

“You saw the photos yourself.”

 

“Not what I meant. He’s certainly talented, but life on tour…”

 

“Who better to break him in?” Kakei adjusted his glasses.

 

Yuuko surveyed the crowd. The front tables had been cleared and a few couples had started to dance. She took another sip. “I’m not a baby sitter.”

 

“With all due respect,” He said, leaning back in his chair. “You absolutely are.”

 

The grin came and went so quickly it might not have happened. “Well, I’m not _your_ baby sitter. I’m full up on wayward cases right now.” She glanced over. “Or haven’t you heard?”

 

“You’ve got it all wrong. Think of it more as an investment.”

 

“To the tune of…?”

 

He grinned at her. “Who talks business at a party?”

 

She smiled sweetly. “If this is a party, why aren’t we dancing yet?”

 

Kakei savored the last of his drink before standing to shrug out of his jacket and offer her a hand. She took it and he lead her to a back corner of the floor, on the edge of the crowd to get a little room to move. The music was nominally swing but the electronic beat that had been mixed under it was better suited to something more modern. They settled with Kakei’s arms around her in a swing hold, but their moves owed more to a relaxed mix of West Coast and Nightclub Two Step. The music was good, the crowd friendly and she lost track of how long they’d been dancing long before they were interrupted.

 

She didn’t notice Saiga until he was close enough to tap her on the shoulder. She turned to look him over. He stuck out from the crowd in his denim and leather jacket. They weren’t the type of people to ignore a dress code. This must have been an unplanned visit. “Ah… I was wondering when you would show up.”

 

“May I cut in?”

 

Yuuko scowled and draped her arms around her date’s neck. “No you absolutely may not!” She pouted from where she’d rested her head against his temple. “However, if you are very polite I may be talked into sharing.”

 

Saiga took that as permission enough as he slipped a possessive arm around Kakei to rest at his hip and planted a quick kiss under his ear. If any part of this display had made Kakei uncomfortable, he certainly didn’t show it. “You’re early.” The slighter turned to note. Somehow those two small words carried a heavy burden of significance.

 

“Yeah. There’s been…” Saiga carefully took stock of who was within earshot. “A development.”

 

Kakei’s arms around Yuuko’s back relaxed and she took the hint to release him and take a step out of his personal space. She could play sexual tension chicken with the best of them, but this felt like something else. As a group they drifted off to the side of the dance floor.

 

“Surely a development that can wait a few hours or can be handled by anyone else in the chain of command?”

 

“No. It’s the you, as soon as humanly possible kind.”

 

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” For the first time, Kakei looked troubled.

 

“What are you mixed up in now?” Yuuko asked.

 

The smile was quickly back. “Nothing to worry about. But unfortunately also nothing I can neglect.”

 

She found a smile despite her disappointment. There would be other nights. “‘Needs must…’ right?”

 

“Yeah.” He smiled warmly at her understanding. “But at least let us get you home first?”

 

“Are you kidding?” She grinned. “And leave this party?”

 

“You sure?” Saiga looked at her dubiously. Probably. It was hard to read him behind the sunglasses.

 

She gave the two a deadpan look. “I’m an adult with money and a cell phone. I’ll figure something out, ok?”

 

“You really are being too accommodating about all of this.” Kakei looked a little pained.

 

“Kakei,” She caught his hand and drew him in to kiss his cheek. “Go be important somewhere.” She leaned back but squeezed his hand a little. “And let me enjoy a few more hours of being nobody.”  
  
Beside him Saiga already had Kakei’s jacket over an arm and his car keys in hand. His arm settled around his partner's back and there was an air of finality to the gesture.

 

“Think about what I’ve said?” Kakei asked.

 

Yuuko reached out to fix his tie. “Consider it done.”

 

“Really?” He seemed surprised. It wasn’t a look he wore often.

 

“Have your wonder kid come over after the first show. I’ll make sure everyone gets along. We can figure out details later.”

 

He caught her manicured hand and kissed the back of it. “You won’t regret it.”

 

“I never regret anything.” She smiled. “Now, I thought you had somewhere to be?” She nodded a farewell to his partner. “Sagia.”

 

“We’ll see you again some time.” He nodded back, before guiding him towards the exit. She watched them disappear through the dance floor.


	15. Chapter 15

“That was-”

 

“Wow.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many people before.”

 

Breathing Fire stumbled back into their dressing room, a wave of adrenaline crashing down around them as they tried to put words to the concert they had just given. There was still something unbelievable about the experience and the tiniest parts of them were still waiting to wake up. They were sweaty, grimy and so very, very happy.

 

Fuuma pulled out the bottle of whiskey. What Fai didn't know didn't hurt him. He held it aloft. “To us!” He cried, taking a swig. Kamui plastered himself to his left side, turning his jaw to lay a quick probing kiss on him, tongue chasing down the heat of the whiskey. To his right Subaru snaked under his arm, toasting the bottle himself. “To the fans.” He took his own drink watching them fondly. Kamui pulled back with a wide grin to Subaru. He grabbed the bottle, “To Breathing Fire!” and knocked back his own portion.

 

They stayed like that for a long time, basking in the sweetest afterglow any of them had ever known. Each reluctant to break the spell. Eventually the roar of the crowd grew again. Crossroad Karma must be setting up…

 

“We should go.” Kamui broke the silence.

 

“Backstage or…” Fuuma asked.

 

“The box I think. It’ll have the whole view.” Kamui looked gob smacked, turning to Fuuma with a sudden intensity. “You know I’ve never even seen her live before?”

 

“You may have mentioned it one or fifty times.” Fuuma smiled, pulling away from the two to clean off at least a little in the bathroom.

 

Subaru drifted towards the door. “Aren’t you coming with?” Kamui asked, confused.

 

Subaru hovered by the door, shedding his accessories in a pile on the counter. “I will. I’ll catch up ok? I wanted to watch from backstage for a bit.” It wasn’t really a question and Subaru was already slipping away.

 

“Yeah, ok.” Kamui watched him go.

 

In the bathroom Fuuma shut off the tap. Kamui followed the noise, closing the door behind him.

 

Fuuma was bent over the sink, drying his face on the hand towel when Kamui came up behind him, pressing their hips together and bracketing Fuuma between his hands on the sink. He looked up from the towel and Kamui caught his eye in the mirror. “So…” Kamui’s hand traced along his hip.

 

“You!” Fuuma turned in his arms, picking him up by the waist and setting him down on the edge of the porcelain sink. Their foreheads pressed together. “You were amazing out there.”

 

Kamui bit his lip. It was always so sweet to see him uncertain and such a surprise given his stage persona. “You think the crowd liked us?”

 

Fuuma smiled. As if there had been any room for doubt. “They loved you.” He let his fingertips trace up the denim seams running along the outsides of Kamui’s thighs.

 

“We’re just the warm up band.” Kamui murmured, the grin brushing against his jaw belaying the modesty.

 

“Bullshit.” Fuuma cursed as he brought their mouths together in a breathless, desperate kiss. Kamui’s hands where everywhere, twisted in his hair, running up his shirt, pulling on the belt loops of his jeans. It wasn’t long at all before he was opening Fuuma’s flies and slipping a hand in. He didn’t need any prompting to return the favor.

 

Fuuma watched in the mirror as Kamui pulled his hand away to brace against the back of the sink and started to shift his hips forward. “Fuuma, I want-”

 

He griped Kamui’s hips, pulling him to the very edge of the counter and pushing denim out of the way to press their lengths together, taking them both in his hand.

 

“Yeah.” Kamui groaned against his neck, nibbling at the tendons he found there.

 

“How’s it feel Kamui?” His own voice was tight. They didn’t have much time and his hand was moving mercilessly. Not to mention the little gasps and groans Kamui was letting escape so close to his ear.

 

“Wha-?”

 

“How’s it feel to have made it?”

 

Kamui grinned and sunk his teeth into the spot on his neck he’d been worrying. A guttural noise escaped him, somewhere between a purr and a growl. He turned to catch Fuuma’s gaze in the mirror as he licked away the pain, eye bright but unfocused. “Feels good, Fuuma.”

 

Fuuma came unexpectedly, knees buckling as he groaned his pleasure. Kamui ran his fingers though his short hair, holding him tenderly through it, laying clumsy kisses along his temple and cheek. It was only a handful of heartbeats before Kamui lowered a hand to himself, fingers lacing between Fuuma’s own.   


“Fuuma…” He breathed.

 

It wasn’t a request he wished to deny. Fuuma only allowed himself a moment’s recovery before he started moving again, both their hands hot and slick against Kamui’s length. Kamui threw his free hand around his shoulders for support, buried his face in Fuuma’s broad shoulder and hitched his hips into every stroke.   
  
“So good, Kamui.” Fuuma turned and murmured into that dark hair. “You were so good out there.”

 

“Fuuma!” His voice was tight, desperately pitched.

 

He kept his hand moving, fast and firm, driving Kamui over the edge.

 

He came with broken gasp against his shoulder and shudders that Fuuma could see in the mirror and feel against his body. Kamui clung to him even as Fuuma reached around him to wash his hands hurriedly in the sink. The towel was soon sacrificed to clean them up. Fuuma had his pants re-buttoned and set him back on wobbly legs before he even knew what was happening.

 

“Where’s the fire?” He laughed weakly.

 

“You’ve got a childhood dream to realize tonight, remember?” Fuuma disappeared around the corner but was immediately back with new T-shirts for them to change into. “Like I would let you miss it.”

 

Kamui looked down at his own with a grimace and changed gratefully. He turned to glance in the mirror and winced at his kiss-swollen mouth and caught sight of the mark he’d left on Fuuma’s neck. “Shit! Uh… should I…?” He tried to set his hair back how it had been before the concert.

 

“Leave it.” Fuuma advised. “You looked like sex before you even got on stage. Doubt anyone will notice the difference.”

 

Kamui met his eye skeptically but outside the roar of the crowd changed pitch. “Come on,” He said, pulling on Kamui’s arm. “You’ve got a show to catch.”


	16. Chapter 16

Fai groaned pitifully from where he was lying on the couch, his knee twisted and weighed down absentmindedly by his partner’s heavy hand. “It huuuurts.” He frowned, eyes furrowed shut.

 

“Yeah,” Kurogane answered, not looking up from his manga. “You basically just sat for what, 48 hours? What were you expecting?”

 

“Kuromenie, you should be more sympathetic.”

 

“I’ll be more sympathetic when you’re more proactive. Go jogging with me next time I offer.”

 

“You go jogging at the crack of dawn! It’s inhuman.” Fai shifted his leg a few degrees, hitting a new section of tightness. “You should go later in the day.”

 

“I’ll have to at this rate.” Kurogane looked at his watch. They were sitting in the suite that had been designated their communal meeting place. The snacks and drinks were set out and waiting but so far they were the only ones who had shown up. “Where are they?”

 

Fai cracked an eye open but the frown stayed. “I think Yuuko wanted to debrief all the musicians. Give everyone some life affirming pep talk or something. You know how she is.”

 

Fai was probably actually in moderate pain if the grimace stayed through the subject change. Part of Kurogane was relieved the tears weren’t there to manipulate him but the other part was coming to terms with the necessity that he’d be dragging a reluctant Fai into exercising sometime soon. It was a negotiation that often got as challenging as his professional ones.

 

He turned the page and ruffled Fai’s hair.

 

“Hey!” Fai swatted at him.

 

They were interrupted by the mechanism of the door beeping, someone activating the lock from the other side. First to enter were the members of Breathing Fire. They looked exhausted but happy. Subaru and Fuuma seemed to orbit around Kamui, subtly protective. The man in question seemed happy enough, but his eyes were a little red, like he might have been crying. Fai nudged Kurogane to give him a significant look. Definitely the life affirming pep talk.

 

Fai made to sit up for politeness’s sake but the band collapsed on the second couch in a jumble and Fai thought better of it. Fuuma laid down with his head against the armrest. Kamui draped over him, his arms crossed across his chest and used as a pillow. Subaru claimed the opposite armrest but used Kamui’s backside as a footrest, groaning in relief as he let his head fall against the back cushion.   
  
“Hey,” They all looked to Kurogane. “Great show. Really.”

 

They didn’t quite find the energy for coherent ‘thank you’s, but their grunts of appreciation were clear enough.

 

Subaru flapped a hand to the table. “Fuuma.” He followed the gesture to a stack of bottled water and passed one to Kamui who in turn passed it back to Subaru, who drank the whole thing in one go before dropping the empty bottle on the floor.

 

Next through the door were Watanuki and Doumeki carrying boxes of fresh fruit and sandwiches to add to the spread of candy and chips.

 

“Woah.” Watanuki said as the headliners drifted in behind him. “You guys ok?”

 

“Seriously!” Mokona appeared at his side grabbing a sandwich. “What kind of after party is this? Wake up you guys!”

 

Yuuko caught his elbow and stole a bite of his food. “Be nice Mokona. The poor dears just don’t have the stamina yet.”

 

“We’ve got stamina!” Kamui grumbled into Fuuma’s T-shirt. “We just spent all of it on stage.”

 

“Boys,” She grabbed package of M&Ms. “That’s what ‘No stamina’ means.” She opened it with a frown. “Watanuki, where are my purple M&Ms?”

 

“Are they not out?” A quick glance over the table didn’t turn any up. “Sorry, they must still be in my room. One minute.” He disappeared in the entryway. Fai held out his hand for her rejected M&Ms and she handed them over, moving his strait leg to settle across her lap as she sat down. They chatted as he munched on them, passing the red ones back for Kurogane to eat. In the meantime the girls dragged Mokona over to the other set of couches around what Fai was quickly coming to think of as the ‘kids’ table’.

 

Watanuki returned quickly. Too quickly to have made it to his room yet. He looked worried.

 

“What is it?” Doumeki asked, cutting across the banter of the room which fell into attentive silence.

 

“There’s someone in the hallway. Not one of ours!” They had rented out the entire top floor.

 

“What did he look like?” Doumeki asked, moving to the door.

 

“Young? Light brown hair. It was cut funny.”

  
  
“Did he have a camera?” Yuuko asked, checking the clock.

 

“Uh… yeah, actually.”

 

“Let him in. He is ours starting now.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

There was a knock on the door. Doumeki opened it.

 

It was a familiar face. “Hi. Um… I’m here to see Yuuko?” Doumeki stepped aside to let him through, trailing as he walked to the main room. “Um, excuse me?”

 

“Ahh!” She cooed, like she was delighted to see him. “Everyone, meet Kazahaya.”

 

“Hi.” He waved nervously to the group at large. “Gosh. Wow, well, it’s a pleasure to be here. I’m a photographer-”

 

“Paparazzi.” Doumeki cut in. He’d circled his way back to stand by Yuuko’s couch. “You were at the airport.”

 

Kazahaya blushed a bit under the scrutiny. “Yeah. I uh… I guess I didn’t expect any of you to recognize me.”   
  
“What are you doing here?”

 

“I-”

 

“He’s one of us now.” Yuuko cut in. Her voice was friendly but the warning glance she shot to Doumeki brokered no room for question. “He’s our official tour photographer. Specially assigned.” Doumeki’s eyes narrowed but Yuuko shook her head the tiniest bit. “Doumeki, why don’t you go help Watanuki find those M&Ms?”

 

He frowned. She wasn’t his boss.

 

But it was her tour.

 

He left without a word and Watanuki, probably the most fluent in non-verbal Yuuko communication, followed him close behind.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tear Garden by IAMX
> 
> If you have never heard this song before please do yourself a favor and find you best headphones, close your eyes and give it a listen.  
> Specifically this acoustic recording of it.  
> Tear Garden Corridor Clip:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-QBj5cnAyM

One of the many blessings of a clean tour was that the artists would actually go to sleep. Sure they came off of the shows on an adrenaline high, but really only the twins and Mokona were still young enough to party past dawn after every show. And as long as they were provided with enough snacks and music, they were content to do so under the watchful eye of Seishero’s security team in the safety of the communal hotel suite. In it’s bedroom-cum-security office, Seishero looked over the night’s reports. There was always some complication or problem to learn from for the next city. They were working their way up the coast. Palm trees gradually gave way to redwoods as they passed from LA to Oakland then Portland. Their current city was Seattle and it hadn’t stopped raining since they had arrived two days before.

 

The biggest surprise had perhaps been Kamui. Despite his reputation he’d been on best behavior for Yuuko. There had been no cursing at reporters. No stage diving. He hit all of his cues. She’d even asked for a sober tour and he’d never questioned it. It wasn’t like Seishiro was about to go searching his things, but if Kamui had brought anything, he at least had the decency to hide it. Oddly his problem was Subaru. He’d slipped away from the main group about an hour ago and no one had seen him since.

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much.” Fuuma had told him earlier, when he’d brought it up. “This is pretty much par for the course Subaru. He just disappears sometimes.”

 

“Any idea where to find him?”

 

“If it was Kamui, it’d be easy. He likes to head to high ground. Usually a roof top or something.” Fuuma smiled fondly. “But Subaru can be tricky. He just wants to be alone but he also has a tendency to wander into weird places. So it could be anywhere… maybe an office in the conference center or something? We found him in the hotel kitchen once.”

 

"And where do you go?"

 

"Me? Fuuma had asked with a laugh. "Nowhere. One of us has to be normal."

 

Seishiro had thanked him for the advice and began his search. A quick survey of the lobby and public areas of the hotel’s attached convention center didn’t turn up anything. He needed to head back upstairs for back up. As the elevator doors opened he eyed the fire emergency stairway entrance tucked into the corner.

 

He knew his craft well enough to recognize a real security door and this wasn’t one, despite the ‘alarm will sound’ sign. Quietly he eased the door open and the distant guitar strumming told him he’d guessed right.

 

The stairwell was concrete and metal, a jarring and cold contrast to the lush furnishings of the rest of the hotel. Clearly this wasn’t an area intended for guests. Without the luxury of carpet or wallpapering, the sound was bouncing off of the solid surfaces, sweet but sharp in a way he felt in his teeth. Subaru’s quiet voice was haunting as it echoed down the stairs.

 

“ _I saw bright, open common sense. I do evil things and evil things return. And I’m praying now. Praying for me_.”

 

Seishiro moved silently as he began to climb the stairs. He wasn’t exactly an expert on Breathing Fire (or at least not their music) but it still wasn’t a song he recognized.

 

“ _You can’t hide. I remove from you every tiny strength in everything you do. And I’ll kick you down. I’ll break you with a tender touch_.”

 

By the fifth floor Seishiro’s tired legs were protesting. He slowed to take stock of his options. Subaru was getting closer. He could hear it, the sound drifting slowly along the stairs. The clicking of Subaru’s cuban heels marking his decent.

 

Seishiro sat down on a step just below the landing, waiting for the inevitable meeting, letting Subaru come to him. Quietly he lit a cigarette.

 

“ _In the west they have made a plague. We have built the ship that sailed it to our veins. And God forbid_ …” Subaru’s shoe appeared at the top of the stairs as he slowly meandered down. “ _Anything should_ -”

 

Subaru stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted him. The notes died away slowly, bouncing down the walls and Seishiro felt the interrupted phrase like a physical discomfort. The resolution never came.

 

They didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching each other through the handrails and waiting for the other to begin. But neither did. The silence stretched on as they stared at each other. Eventually Seishiro took another drag. “You don’t have to stop on my account.”

 

“This hotel is non-smoking.” Subaru said, unreadable.

 

“I don’t see any smoke alarms in here.” Seishiro smiled, blowing the smoke out as a stream into the air. Again there was a pause.

 

“I broke curfew.” It was flat and unreadable.

 

“That’s true.”

 

Subaru sat down slowly, gingerly depositing his guitar on the landing above him.

 

“Aren’t you cross with me?”

 

“Subaru, if I was honest with you, would you make me regret it?”

 

He didn’t respond, just watched carefully from his concrete high ground.

 

Seishiro took another drag and shifted his gaze down the stairwell. “You’re all under such strict lock and key because it’s the only way management would consider letting you on such an important tour. You’re nowhere near trustworthy in their eyes, especially Kamui, but Yuuko wanted you. You wouldn’t believe the negotiating it took.” He flicked some ash off and scuffed it into nothingness with his shoe. “I’m here as your security and I take that very seriously, but most of my job right now is to keep Kamui toeing the line. He’s young. He’s angry. He needs a short leash. Somehow I think you can handle a little freedom.” Seishiro looked back in his direction, somewhere around Subaru’s shoes. “So no, I don’t really care that you broke curfew. I just care that you’re safe.” Seishiro smiled. “Unless you’re about to run away?”

 

Subaru just looked at him surprised.

 

“Somehow I think you won’t.” His smile was polite.

 

“What’s there to run from?”

 

“Are you alright, Subaru?”

 

He stilled. “Why do you ask?” His voice was even if a little quiet.

 

“You’re not the first artists I’ve toured with. They don’t usually spend 4 a.m. after their concerts alone in stairwells singing sad songs to themselves.”

 

Subaru smiled a little ruefully. “The proper ones do.”

 

“Who on Earth told you that?”

 

“Experience?” Subaru shifted to lean back against the wall. He frowned. “Vanity.”

 

It was hard to talk about the let down.

 

Onstage, everything was perfect. The crowd. The energy. The joy. His best friends up there with him, living the dream. It was a crime that most of humanity would live their life not knowing what it felt like to have a stadium full of fan screaming for you. Utter bliss.

 

And yet…

 

After the lights went out and the people went home, that feeling couldn’t possibly last or it would burn a person up in its intensity. And he was left, as ever, in a strange city and a room that wasn’t his own. Alone with his thoughts and memories and the stars out the windows that never open.

 

He thought, (foolishly, he now knew) that ‘making it’ might mean something. Might change his brain somehow. That it would be enough to make him feel like he used to.

 

Might let him sleep at night.

 

“I thought it would feel different.”

 

“What?”

 

“Success.”

 

Seishiro had nothing to say to that.

 

Subaru took a moment to observe him. He put out the butt of his cigarette on the metal edge of the stair, then just returned his gaze, waiting.

 

Seishiro had already extended the first small offer of trust. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to return the favor.

 

Of course it could.

 

“Sometimes…” Subaru laced his fingers together, staring at them nervously. “Sometimes it’s better if I don’t stay alone in my room. So I…” He gestured vaguely above him to mean the staircase then back at his guitar.

 

Seishiro nodded minutely in understanding. “Then don’t. It’s fine.” His smile was professional but edged with something genuine. “Find a stairwell. Play your guitar. I’ll stay with you if you want. Whatever helps.”

 

Subaru seemed to cave in on himself, drawing his knees in tighter and dropping his head down a few degrees. “You really don’t have to.”

 

But Seishiro waved away his protest with a dismissive gesture. “Subaru.” He waited until he met his eye. “I’m here to make you feel safe.” Subaru drew back slightly, hesitant. “Whatever that takes.”

 

Subaru avoided his eye contact, instead gazing off down the stairs. The silence drug on so long that it finally felt comfortable. They sat that way for long minutes when eventually Subaru reached back for his guitar, extending a leg out along the step and carefully balancing it across his lap.

 

“Do you mind?” It was almost a whisper.

 

“By all means.”

 

Subaru returned to his song, at first hesitantly picking out the melody and eventually strumming the chords. He played through the chorus again before continuing with the last verse, singing nowhere near as expressively now that he had an audience.

 

“ _At our root, we are connected through a biology, a universal cruelty_.”

 

Seishiro settled against the wall, watching Subaru’s hands moving over the strings.  
  
“ _Send me home. Return me to a lonely womb_.” Subaru’s gaze flickered in his direction and he could hear the hesitation in a missed beat. Subaru finished the song humming instead.

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

The trick to living with a detoxing Fai, and Kurogane was somewhat of an expert by now, was to avoid unpleasantness _before_ it happened. His partner put on a brave face for everyone else on the tour, but he was a master at hiding pain. It was only when it was just the two of them, and to a certain degree when Fai thought he wasn’t paying attention that he let the symptoms start to show. He hadn’t slept well the night before between the achy body and nausea. In the spirit of trying to get today off to a better start, he’d woken Fai up with a blow job and deposited him in the shower with instructions to meet him in the gym. That had been half an hour ago and he was starting to wonder if the blonde would ever walk through those doors.

 

The gym was pretty amazing as far as hotel gyms went. A large wall of windows opened out over a garden where, just through the trees the pool was viable. There were mirrors over two walls and everything was clean and airy.

 

The party last night after the band’s Vancouver concert had drug on so he’d woken up late. It must have been around eleven now. He didn’t like such late starts but at least the gym was empty. He even had taken a few minutes to meditate before he started his warm-up stretching.

 

The automatic door slid open and Kurogane turned at the sound. It wasn’t Fai. Kurogane felt himself tense, a little on edge, but it wasn’t anyone here to show off or an alpha male here to challenge him. Just a hotel employee with wavy black hair in dark sweats and an identification tag hanging from his unzipped hoodie. A staff personal trainer or something, probably. Kurogane breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he couldn’t play bullshit dominance games. He just wasn’t in the mood.

 

With a final roll of his shoulders he stood up and stepped on the treadmill. He selected a program and waited. But nothing happened. He tried again. Nothing.

 

“It’s not giving you trouble, is it?”

 

Kurogane looked back up to find the man approaching the machine. “I think it might be broken?”

 

“Yeah,” the man said, looking over the machine’s controls. “It just freezes sometimes. You just have to…” He held down a combinations of buttons until the machine died completely, then restarted as normal. “There, that should do it.”

 

“Thanks.” Kurogane set the machine up for a half hour run, starting with the easy warm up walk he fell into. The man leaned against the bike machine to Kurogane’s right, arms crossed over his chest and patently not moving. “Hey, look… uh…”

 

“Kujaku.” The man supplied.

“Kujaku, can I help you?”

 

He smiled. “I teach a Yoga class in the afternoons if you’re, uh…” His eyes flicked unmistakably down and back up Kurogane’s body. “… _Interested_.”

 

On the display the program went up a level and he started jogging. “Sorry, I’m busy.”

 

The man pouted, simpering a little in a way that reminded him _way_ too much of Fai. “I didn’t even tell you when it was yet.”

 

“I’m not really a yoga type of guy.”

 

“That’s funny. You look _exactly_ like a yoga type guy to me.” Kujaku sat sideways on the bike machine and Kurogane watched him warily. “You should try it out. People always end up being a lot more flexible than they think they are.”

 

Kurogane shook his head. Maybe if it’d been ten years earlier, but... “You’re really picking up a guy at work?”

 

Kujaku grinned.“You tell me, handsome.”

 

And wow, he’d really taken that the wrong way. It’s not like he had flirted back, right? He ran over the conversation in his head again. Right?

 

“Kurgerburger!”

 

Shit.

 

“There you are!”

 

He paused the treadmill as Fai stalked towards him, very deliberately positioning himself between the two as he laid a quick but unmistakably possessive kiss on Kurogane. “You forgot your iPod in the room, sweetheart. I thought you might want it.” Fai deposited the player and headphones in the treadmill’s empty cup holder before turning over his shoulder to glare daggers at Kujaku. All over a wide smile of course. “And who is this, darling?”

 

Kujaku had the decency to back off, slipping off the other side of the bike and retreating towards the counter. “Oh me? I’m no one. Just letting him know the gym schedule.”

 

“Oh thank you~!” Fai was way, way to friendly about it. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

 

“Sure thing.” Kujaku slipped back out the door but not before shooting a triumphant ‘I knew it!’ glance at Kurogane.

 

For a moment the only noise was the door hitting it’s frame and then…

 

“What the hell was _that_?” Fai snapped at him.

 

Kurogane felt the heat eating like acid through his stomach. He had every right to demand the same of Fai. Through sheer force of will he killed the rising anger. Fai didn’t really get this paranoid anymore. He trusted him. This was just… This had to be the detox. Agitation being funneled out where it could, reasonable or not.

 

“It was nothing.” He turned to catch Fai’s chin in his hand and kissed him without warning, his other hand running calming strokes down his partner's back. Fai was caught off guard but soon relaxed in his arms. When he deemed the crisis averted, he pulled back. Fai was wide eyed but quickly got himself back under control. “Did you want the treadmill or…?”

 

“I- No, I’ll take the elliptical. It’s probably better for me anyway.”

 

Kurogane nodded and unpaused his treadmill while Fai stepped on to the machine to his left. It wasn’t long before he was breathing hard and sweat was starting to form on his skin. Fai’s program was much easier, just enough to keep his hip loose and he took advantage of the easy task to appreciate his view.

 

Kurogane rolled his eyes at him.

 

“I can’t believe you.” Fai said after a moment. Kurogane looked over sharply but the blonde's expression was of good-natured teasing. It was a familiar look. They were fine. “Five minutes I leave you alone-”

 

Kurogane scoffed. “Forty five minutes, Fai. It took you forty five minutes.”

 

Fai ignored him. “…and you’re already flirting with the exotic locals.”

 

Exotic? “You mean Canadian?”

 

“I know they must just drive you mad with desire.” Fai pouted at him.

 

“Canadians? We’re talking about Canadians?”

 

“The way they’re so polite.”

 

“Oh my God, Fai.”

 

“And friendly.”

 

“Stop talking.”

 

“The way they say ‘eh’.”

 

“No one in Vancouver even- You know what? I’m ignoring you. You are being ignored.” He slipped on his headphones and started a playlist.


	19. Chapter 19

“Can I get curly fries with that?” Kamui asked, leaning with both hands against the counter and head raised to read the fluorescent menu.

 

“Sir, we don’t have curly fries.”

 

“What, at all?”

 

She looked at him, the life draining out of her eyes. She wasn’t even halfway through her shift yet. “Not at all.”

 

“Just pick something else.” Fuuma tried to hurry his friend, his own patience wearing thin.

 

“Do you have sweet potato fries?” Kamui asked.

 

She blinked slowly. “Sir, we have fries. Normal fries. Would you like some normal fries?”

 

He frowned. “I guess so.”

 

A few minutes later found them sitting down with their trays with Subaru, Watanuki, Doumeki and always flitting around the edges Kazahaya. Security also of course, but so far the band hadn’t been recognized and they could eat in peace. Security stayed in plain clothes at a nearby table, fading professionally into the background. Harder to ignore was…

 

“Oh! Can you guys stay just like that? This is going to look amazing with the window framing you!” Kazahaya was gone, sprinting out the door for an external shot of the band around the diner booth.

 

It was getting weird. Their new photographer had traveled with them all along the coast, but they hadn’t really gotten to know him. He was just… there. His project was mostly candid shots, which only really worked when you ignored the camera. Which got them in the habit of just sort of ignoring Kazahaya. Beyond little excited outbursts like these, he had stayed pretty under the radar.

 

“Shouldn’t he put on a coat or something at least?” Watanuki sipped at his iced tea, then immediately grimaced down at it, setting it aside. “It’s pretty cold.”

 

“Did he even order?” Subaru gave the boy outside a worried glance.

 

“Hmm…” Kamui seemed to consider him, then reached a decision. “Scoot over you guys. Fuuma, you got a second burger right?” They rearranged so by the time their photographer returned there was an empty place for him with a drink and burger. “Hey Kazahaya, sit down for once, yeah?”

 

“Me?” He seemed shocked. “But are you sure? That’s not… I didn’t get anything.”

 

“Yeah, for sure! Just come on.” Kamui gestured to the open spot and he shyly took it.

 

“Thanks.” He smiled around the table, cheeks not just red from the cold. He carefully put away his camera equipment before daintily unwrapping his meal. “Wow. It’s not everyday you get to eat with rockstars.”

 

“Well, It could be.” Subaru said kindly. “We don’t bite you know. You’re on our tour. You’re one of us. We don’t mind sharing a table.”

 

“That is… That’s going to take some getting used to.”

 

“Try not to think of it like that.” Kamui said, nudging him with an elbow, a little forced familiarity better than nothing. “Try to think of it as just sitting with two band geeks and a viola nerd.”

 

“Viola?” Kazahaya asked, finally distracted from his shyness.

 

Subaru lifted a finger.

 

“You play viola?” Kazahaya asked excitedly. “I used to play back in school. I never got very good though.”

 

Subaru was about to answer when Doumeki’s usually subdued voice cut him off sharply. “Of course he plays viola.” Kazahaya looked at him nervously. “He’s got a bachelors in viola performance. This is basic- You could google this shit.” The whole table was silently watching the reporter. “Did you do _any_ research? At all?”

 

Whatever response the visibly upset photographer had coming, it was superseded by Watanuki. “You know what? I am just _famished_ for a cigarette. Doumeki, why don’t you join me for a smoke break?”

 

“Doumeki, you smoke?” Subaru murmured.  
  
“Apparently.” He answered under his breath, but followed Watanuki out the main doors.

 

An awkward silence gaped perilously before them but Kamui saved them. “Don’t worry. Doumeki’s just pissy because he can’t get in Watanuki’s pants. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

 

For the given value of ‘saved’.

 

Under the table two feet kicked his shin.

 

“Ha ha.” Kazahaya rolled his eyes. “As if.”

 

They all paused and it was Fuuma who said, “What?”

 

“‘As if’ those two. They’re just friends.”

 

Kamui was about to open his mouth again but Subaru got there first. “Ok, you got us. Just checking to see how gullible you are.”

 

“Look, I know the stereotype, ok? ‘Careful what you tell Kazahaya. He works for the big evil tabloid. He’ll print anything.’ Well it’s not going to work.” He took a sip from his drink self-righteously. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I can tell when people are lying to me.”

 

Subaru thoughtfully sipped at his soda. “Kamui got arrested for indecent exposure at the beach in SF.”

 

Across the table Kamui glared at him, but Kazahaya just frowned. “Yeah right. I would have heard about it. There would have been a police report or something.” He took a big bite of burger.

 

Kamui looked at Subaru in wonder, who just shrugged in return. There _had_ been a police report until Kurogane had stepped in. Kamui's grin got that worrying edge. “I’m fucking my drummer.”

 

Subaru choked on his drink.

 

“You’re dating your bandmate.” Fuuma corrected. Kamui grinned at him impishly, waving a hand back and forth like he thought there was room for debate.

 

Kazahaya just glared at them. “Ha, ha. You’re dating that Kotori girl. I’m not an idiot.”

 

“Kotori?” Kamui asked. It was news to him.

 

“Yeah, it’s super obvious. You should learn to show a little subtlety.” Kazahaya suddenly seemed to realize how rude he was being. “Not that I’ll report that back. But… I mean it’s not like I’ll say anything, but people _know_.”

 

Kamui nodded, pretending to take that in. Behind him Fuuma bit into a fry. “I have three nipples.”

 

Kazahaya’s head snapped around to look at him. “Really!?”

 

“This is adorable.” Kamui sighed.

 

“Can we keep him?” Subaru murmured.

 

Outside the conversation wasn’t going as well.

 

The place was deserted and Watanuki was quick to claim a bench, perching on it's back rest just on the edge of the storefront lighting. They’d driven out to the edge of town to find a place this empty and beyond the island of light, the dark forest wilderness extended out into the unknown. Doumeki followed him, bracing for the coming lecture.

 

“What is wrong with you!?” He hissed, glaring as he lit his cigarette, shielding his lighter from the wind. “Kazahaya has been nothing but sweet and polite to everyone and you have done nothing but shit on him this entire trip. So he’s young. So he doesn’t have your fancy degrees. Big deal. News flash; not everyone gets to go to school like you did.” The two fingers holding his cigarette were thrust against Doumeki’s sternum. “Grow up and pick on someone your own fucking size!”

 

Doumeki seemed ready to spit something back, but instead bit his tongue and deflated the tiniest bit. “It sounds bad when you say it like that.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Watanuki drew back. “Are you saying there’s a version where you’re _not_ a giant asshole?”

 

“It’s-” Doumeki sat down, frustrated and staring off into the darkness of the night. “It’s stupid.”

 

“Obviously. But you better start trying to explain before I decide to leave you here.”

 

“I’m…” He struggled for the right word. “I’m jealous, I guess.”

 

“Jealous?” It wasn’t exactly what Watanuki was expecting to hear. He slid down to sit even with Doumeki. “You’re jealous of eighteen year old, baby face, someone find me a real hairdresser, can’t pay my rent Kazahaya?”

 

Doumeki's face wasn't so readable at the best of times, but he certainly didn't look happy now. “Yeah.”

 

He shook his head, at a loss. “Why?”

 

“Because.” Doumeki’s teeth were grit but once he started it was like he couldn’t stop. “Because he doesn’t even finish school, has a ‘natural talent~’ for photography, works for a notorious tabloid company and still manages to fall into a dream job on this tour? And I…” Doumeki looked like he’d eaten something bitter. “I spend my youth getting a masters in journalism. I study and I scrape and I report on whatever bullshit my editor wants for years. I’m finally at the top of my field and the only reason I’m even here is because I’m your-” He searched for the word. “Your arm candy?” His hands were fisting in the material of his slacks across his knee. “And I’m not even that.” He shook his head but resolutely did not look anywhere but the dark of the forest. “I mean is it just pity at this point or…?”

 

“Hey!” Watanuki’s hand reached out to cover Doumeki’s own, those pale, thin fingers wrapping around his fist. Whatever anger Watanuki had in his voice had melted away and all he could here now was attentive concern. Doumeki took a breath, willing himself to relax, his fists falling loose. Watanuki took the chance to hesitantly lace their fingers together. “Don’t think like that, ok? You’re not just ‘arm candy’ or whatever. You’re here because I like you. Everyone likes you. You’re our friend now, ok? Can’t that be enough?” Watanuki pressed against his side, laying his head down his pink cheek resting against the grain of Doumeki’s woolen coat. He held his hand like that for a long minute. With his left he took a last drag and flicked his butt into the parking lot gravel.

 

Doumeki looked so tired. “What are we doing here?”

 

“Yeah sorry. That’s probably my bad. When they offered to go out to eat I imagined something a little more restaurant and a little less rest stop.”

 

“No, I mean-” It was scary to have this sort of conversation at the best of times and it was especially stupid this close to the beginning of a trip. But if he’d be needing to fly himself home, he’d rather not cross the pacific solo. “We’re not dating. We’re not _not_ dating.” Watanuki’s fingers were so cold against his. “Did you change your mind?”

 

Watanuki’s throat went tight and even without the smoke it felt hard to breathe. He thought Doumeki had known to let well enough alone. He didn’t want to hurt him, but if he was asking, he deserved the truth. “Look, Doumeki…” Why did his hands always get shaky at times like this? “I would have never invited you along if I didn’t… feel _something_ for you. And that hasn’t really changed, but... I can’t promise you a future. Or a relationship. I don’t know what’s going to happen with Himawari and I don’t want you to feel like I’ve led you on and… And it’s complicated. And maybe it’s not what you deserve but it’s the truth.”

 

Watanuki’s shaky hand was clutched to his and he held on just as tightly.

 

Doumeki’s voice was slow and deliberate. “Then let’s make this really simple. Right here, right now, no strings attached, no feeling guilty about it later, do you want to kiss me?”  
  
“What?” Watanuki finally looked over to him. 

 

“Just… stop thinking so hard, and see how you feel.”

 

“But-”

 

“Watanuki.” The pleading was plain in his eyes.

 

He made no effort to hide the concern written across his face, but he turned to him anyway. “Ok.”

 

“Ok?” It was almost a whisper. Doumeki leaned in, stopping a breath away.

 

Watanuki tipped his chin up and gave the slightest of nods. “Ok.”

 

Doumeki brought up a hand, lightly running the back of his knuckles along Watanuki’s smooth jawline. Maybe it was taking a liberty but if this could be the only chance he got…

 

He let his eyes slide closed, bringing their lips gently together. After months of longing and restraint. It was everything he’d hoped it would be. Soft and warm and smoky and…

 

And Watanuki wasn’t kissing back.

 

His stomach fell like lead. Well, it wasn't like Watanuki hadn't warned him, right? He pulled away carefully, eyes sliding open again but gaze firmly down. “You don’t-”

 

And then there was a cold hand at the back of his neck, pulling him back down and Watanuki was moving against him. Their lips met, pushing and dragging lightly against sensitive skin, achingly slowly. In a whiplash of feeling, the weight in his stomach was replaced with a warm bliss. Watanuki was finally, _finally_ showing reciprocation. For a moment nothing else mattered. It was careful and precious and perfect and…

 

And Watanuki’s lips slid open, warm and wet against him. He let his own mouth do the same, dragging the tip of his tongue lightly over Watanuki’s bottom lip. In response he sighed against him, sliding the hot tip of his own out to meet him, tasting of smoke and tea. Doumeki’s heart was pounding in his chest. They lost track of time like that, shifting against each other, carefully probing, gently teasing. Not daring anything more. Fingertips running though hair and palms running along shoulders. Communicating in sighs and tiny moans.

 

Watanuki tentatively caught Doumeki’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently. Heat flared in Doumeki’s stomach and he groaned softly, moving a hand to Watanuki’s waist.

 

But he was gone. He had released Doumeki, drawing back, out of his hands but still within arms reach. The wind blew through the trees while they caught their breath. Watanuki glanced nervously at him and he did his best not to look like something momentous had just happened.

 

It looked like Watanuki was struggling to say something, working up to it a few times before finally giving up and sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Without distraction the cold quickly made itself known.

 

“This is a terrible place for a first kiss, you know.” He critiqued, his heart obviously not really in it. “Nowhere, Vancouver at a horrible dive diner.”

 

Doumeki’s reproach was as gentle as it always was. “It could have been the Golden Gate Bridge if you’d have made your mind up earlier.”

 

“Don’t make this my fault.”

 

“Or the Space Needle.”

 

"That place is only nice from a distance anyway."

 

Watanuki fished another cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, crossing his arms and legs against the wind. Doumeki slid closer.

 

“What do you think you’re-” Watanuki tensed.

 

Doumeki laid an arm around his shoulders. “You looked cold.”

 

“I-” It took a moment, but gradually he relaxed against his side.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quiet the Mind is by IAMX
> 
> Again, the acoustic recording I worked from can be found here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7S-w9Odj3G8  
> It's so beautiful and really worth a listen.
> 
> This chapter fucked me up. I hope you like it.

 

Subaru had worried at first, three am outside Seishiro’s bedroom door (his office bedroom, not his _bedroom_ bedroom) that inviting him out might be a mistake. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he didn’t want to baby sit a sad, bored guitarist instead of sleeping. Maybe having what essentially was a human hall pass around would kill the little thrill he got sneaking into secret corners of the hotels they would stay at. But none of these turned out to be how it had played out.

 

If anything it was more exciting.

 

There were walls he couldn’t scale alone that Seishiro would give him a leg up on. There were security systems that he knew the manufacturers’ bypass systems to. With a complete security overview sitting on his hard drive, he knew when and where they could go without showing up on cameras. He even once pulled out an actual lock pick to get them into a rooftop garden after hours.

 

It was pretty soon clear that Seishiro didn’t really care about broken rules, as long as he was in on it.

 

So they explored, searching for whatever was out there to be found. It was a habit Subaru had picked up in his time in Berlin, where the cold war had left it’s scars across the city. Even in the middle of such a large, vibrant place, there were pockets of ruin and abandon. Crumbling warehouses and dusty theaters and everywhere, even in the middle of all that decay, signs of life. Tags and litter and such beautiful graffiti. Destruction and creation all at the same time. It made him feel connected to some deeper level of humanity. Of life. Most of the writing he had done there had been him, a tape recorder and his guitar, alone in some new and secret place, testing out the acoustics of abandoned and reclaimed spaces.

 

He tried not to think too hard about what might draw Seishiro to their nighttime wanderings. A professional interest, surely.

 

Vancouver hadn’t revealed much. It was a newly renovated hotel and beside an unsanctioned cot in the boiler room and a graveyard of eighties decor in the basement, their search hadn’t been fruitful. Seishiro didn’t let it show on his face, but Subaru could see in the tense line of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, that he had an itch that hadn’t yet been scratched tonight.

 

After a final sweep for unmarked doors turned up nothing, they exited through the back door, it’s heavy metal swinging shut with a depressing air of finality. “It’s ok.” Subaru said quietly. “That’s just how it is sometimes.”

 

Seishiro didn’t really respond, just retied his scarf against the chill. There were hours left until the time when Seishiro usually walked him to his hotel room door.

 

“Come on.” Subaru said, buttoning up his own coat and readjusting the acoustic guitar slung across his back. Seishiro looked at him with interest. “There’s something I want to show you.”

 

He followed obediently as Subaru led them to the top floor of the parking garage where their back up vehicles had been stored, alone in a corner in an otherwise empty floor. They were black and imposing and clean in a way that only vehicles that weren’t really driven could be. He leaned against the front bumper of one of the cars, patting the hood to invite Seishiro to sit next to him.

 

As he settled, Subaru pulled his guitar around to the front, but instead of playing brought his gloved hands up as he yelled, “Hello!” The word bounced off of concrete and steel and glass, echoing in a rich tapestry of sound that took many moments to die away. It wasn’t Teufelsburg, but it would do. He looked over to ask wordlessly if Seishiro had understood. The man looked interested enough, scanning the garage, trying to discern where the sound might still be bouncing from.

 

With a small smile and feeling like a gamble had just paid off, Subaru carefully slid off his black leather gloves, and offered them to his companion. “Hold these for me?” He asked. Seishiro took them with a nod and wordlessly slipped them in his pocket.

 

Subaru fished in his jeans pocket for the ever present pick and strummed a chord into the night air. It blossomed into the space, filling the cold concrete with life and resonance and energy. Shyly he looked over to see if Seishiro was impressed.

 

The man wasn’t smiling, but it looked like he was concentrating everything he had into just experiencing the sound. Subaru decided not to disturb him, just looked to the strings under his hand as he started to pick out more notes. Little phrases of melody that were more muscle memory than anything else. He tried not to think too hard, just letting his hands wander where they would, one minute something he’d played at the last concert, the next a song he hadn’t thought about since Europe. There were even parts of simple etudes from conservatory from when he was playing a different instrument completely. All mixed together. All flowing organically from one to the other without really passing through conscious thought or filter.

 

Eventually Seishiro shifted beside him, leaning forward and watching his hands. Subaru tried to keep playing but the attention was making him nervous. He slowed to a stop and glanced up at the man. He hadn’t realized how close they’d been. “What is it?” He asked softly.

 

“Your hands.”

 

Subaru glanced down to look.

 

Oh.

 

They were growing red with the chill.

 

“Aren’t they getting cold?” He asked.

 

Now that Subaru thought about it, they were. He tested his left hand in a fist and his knuckles were moving a little stiffly. But if the other option was putting on his gloves, not playing, going inside…

 

He’d played through worse.

 

“Not really.” He smiled up reassurance.

 

If Seishiro wasn’t satisfied with the answer, he didn’t say anything. Instead he sat back, lighting a cigarette.

 

“There’s something I’ve been working on,” Subaru volunteered, quietly re-tuning his strings. “But it isn’t finished yet. And I haven’t worked out all the words.” Subaru looked back at him over a shoulder. “Is it ok if I work on it?”

 

Seishiro gestured the affirmative with his smoking hand and a smile. “Of course.”

 

He watched as the musician worked and the world seemed to fall away from him. It wasn’t long at all before Subaru wasn’t even paying attention to him, as he loomed over a shoulder.

 

There was a skeleton, a structure of a song there to be sure. He would play a few phrases, pause, try a different chord or transition or resolution. Humming along with some sections and falling mute during others. He played so long that even Seishiro was starting to feel the chill. Just as he was contemplating interrupting to get them back in the hotel or maybe even just inside one of the cars to warm up, Subaru fell silent.

 

He turned his attention and Subaru was putting on a brave face. “It’s not done yet,” He warned, “But I think I’ve got most of it sorted. Would you like to hear?”

 

Seishiro nodded with a small smile. “Please.”

 

Subaru swallowed and turned back to his guitar. “It might sound a bit, er… intense.” He looked a little squeamish. “But it’s a hopeful song, really.”

 

He started strumming again, a little on edge. He didn’t usually get cold feet about things like this. “ _Some days I can taste my death like a candy bar. So sweet and complete,_ ” there was a warmth in the music that the northern breeze was denying them. “ _As infinity takes me, but before that; I create to keep that dark at my bearable door. I’m a hologram, in my egocentric universal._ ”

 

Subaru finally relaxed into the music. He’d gone this far. “ _So brutal when the words are on the tip of your tongue. So strange when your tired eyes won’t shut your brain down._ ”

 

He didn’t bother staying quiet through the chorus. The echos that formed in the concrete would be dampened by the trees and uneven surfaces, dying in between the garage and the hotel where everyone was presumably sleeping. “ _Hold back the melancholy. Hold back the fear, darling, it’s a crime_.”

 

This was the first time Seishiro had heard Subaru with a raised voice outside of on stage. But even then it wasn’t really the same. Onstage he was always drown out by their front man. “ _Hold back the fear! Hold back the darkness. Hold back the melancholy! Hold back the melancholy, it’s a crime_.” He played through the next phrase, eyes closed but fell silent after that. His voice was soft again. “I haven’t written the rest, yet.”

 

“It’s beautiful.” Seishiro was leaning forward again, his knee practically against his shoulder.

 

Subaru avoided his gaze but slowly, testingly leaned his head down against his knee. When Seishiro didn’t react he brought up his right hand to rest around his lower thigh. It could have been an innocent gesture of comfort if not for the way his thumb was running minutely along his inseam.

 

Seishiro said nothing. He’d long since learned how easy it was to spook the artist. Instead he waited, and after long minutes, brought a hand up to card his fingers carefully through Subaru’s straight dark hair. He couldn’t hear Subaru’s sigh, but could see it in the rise and fall of his shoulders.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are bothered or squicked by throwing up, feel free to skip this chapter.

Whereas Fai had spent the transcontinental flight singing show tunes and annoying the other passengers, it was currently only two hours into their ten hour flight to Japan and he’d spent it quietly clutched to Kurogane’s arm. It wasn’t a good sign. Kurogane had tried to do what he could to help, but at a certain point, biology was biology and when Fai somewhat suddenly stood up, heading for the bathroom, he followed knowing exactly what was coming next.

 

One of the perks of being on a private jet, was that while the facilities were still pretty small, they were thankfully immaculately clean. It was one less thing he had to worry about as he watched Fai fall to his knees in front of the toilet. With the door locked behind them, he knelt at Fai’s side, holding back his hair and steadying him with a hand on this back. The thin body was heaving under his touch as Fai gradually lost both bile and breakfast. Eventually he stilled, but rested his forehead propped against his palm, obviously still miserable.

 

It was another reason he could give Yuuko why this whole thing had been a bad idea.

 

Kurogane twisted around, looking for something then cursed quietly when he didn’t find it. “I left my water bottle at the seats. You want me to go grab it?”

 

Fai spat into the toilet. “No. It’s fine. Just stay here.” He closed the lid and pressed the button to flush. They both grimaced at how loud it was.

 

“Do you want another Dramamine?”

 

“Please don’t ask me to swallow anything right now.”

 

Kurogane shifted, sitting against the wall and bracing a foot against the sink counter. There was room, barely. “Fai.” He caught the blonde’s elbow and guided him down until they were sat back to chest with Fai’s hips bracketed between his thighs. Fai was trying to relax into the embrace as Kurogane fixed his hair, rubbed comforting circles along his arms, but this apparently wasn’t going to be one of those times when throwing up at least made him feel better. Kurogane’s hand shifted hesitantly, landing on his hip and tracing down the line between thigh and pelvis.

 

“Kuro?” Fai asked tightly. “Here?”

 

It was a somewhat recent discovery that this could help when nothing else did. One he wished they’d made sooner.

 

His hand paused. “It could help.” He hated seeing Fai like this but it was his decision to make.

 

Fai bit his lip, seeming to weigh his options, then, “Ok.”

 

Kurogane let his hand fall warm and solid over Fai’s groin, massaging slowly up and down through the fabric. It wasn’t the sexiest thing in the world, but that wasn’t really the point. In less than a minute Fai was relaxing, finally feeling some relief when the arousal beat out the nausea in his nervous system. He leaned his head back against Kurogane’s shoulder, taking a deep breath without gagging for the first time in a while.

 

Fai let his head fall in, forehead against Kurogane’s neck and leaned up to sweetly kiss his jugular. “Thanks.” He said quietly. Kurogane just grunted softly and nodded in reply.

 

“Kind of a shitty way to join the mile high club.” Fai mused, a smile playing at his lip.

 

Kurogane just worked slowly, the heat in Fai’s body building so slowly it almost surprised him when he realized it was there. There wasn’t any urgency, just relief. What normally would have had him whining in frustration he was happy to draw out in these circumstances. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t be right back where they’d started when this was over.

 

Even so. He was only human.

 

Eventually he brought his hands down to undo his own fly and push his underwear out of the way. Kurogane’s hand wrapped around his hard length and his own hand wrapped around that. He guided his hand for the first few strokes, setting a slow and steady rhythm, then let his hand quest back, coming to play with the short hairs on the back of Kurogane’s neck. He wasn’t excited at the prospect of sharing his stomach bile, and instead leaned over to tease at Kurogane’s jawline. To play with his earlobe. He could feel the hitch in Kurogane’s breathing against his entire back.

 

Grinning, he turned away, taking Kurogane’s left hand from where it had wrapped around his waist and bringing it up to his mouth, holding it where Kurogane would have a good view of what was about to happen. He licked teasingly up along the seam between his index and middle finger before sucking the tip of the middle finger between his lips. Kurogane’s right hand tightened reflexively around him and he whimpered indulgently at the feeling. Then Kurogane’s warm breath was against his ear shushing him into silence. “You’ve got to stay quiet, Fai.” He murmured, letting his lips drag along sensitive skin, burying his nose in blonde hair.

 

Fai nodded but sucked the finger down to the second knuckle in retaliation. Kurogane’s finger pressed down against his tongue and he met it with resistance as he worked back and forth on it. But it proved to be a foolish maneuver as it left his neck exposed and Kurogane was quick to take advantage, licking a hot stripe along his flesh and Fai gasped, mouth falling open around him. He pulled his left hand away, instead using it to pull Fai’s hips closer as his arm started to move faster. Fai was left with nothing and brought his own hand up to his mouth, biting his index knuckle to keep his moans muffled.

 

Kurogane’s arm was burning with the prolonged motion but Fai was so close in his arms and he wasn’t about to stop. Fai’s noises by his ear kept building and he kept having to shush him back into silence, or as close to silence as Fai’s heavy breathing would let him come. With his left hand he reached to pull a few tissues from the wall dispenser and pushed them into Fai’s hand. It maybe wasn’t the most romantic of gestures but Fai knew what he meant and they were both so far past caring. Fai’s hips were working in that way they only did when he only had moments left and Kurogane was tight and firm around him, stroking him quickly over the edge. His legs tensed against the counter and just as a moan ripped out of his throat, Kurogane’s other hand was there to muffle it, covering his mouth in a tight grip.

 

Fai came down slowly, nestled into his lover’s arms and basking in the afterglow. Gradually he came back. To the feeling of his lover’s arms and chest breathing around him. To his hardness insistent against his back. To the white noise of the plane that had hopefully covered anything Kurogane hadn’t. Clumsily he cleaned up what he'd missed with another tissue and threw the whole wad lazily over their shoulders into the toilet.

 

“We’ve got to be careful.” He murmured, voice raw.

 

“About what?”

 

“I mean, how long until we’ve both got a Pavlovian thing for vomit?”

 

Kurogane huffed. He could add it to the ever-growing list of weird shit Fai got him into.

 

Fai did up his fly and strained to sit up. Kurogane used a hand to help push him up until he was crouched between his legs. He reached down to unzip Kurogane’s pants, pulling out his erection and considering his options.

 

A blowjob was out of the question. A fingertip sure, but anything that might cause a gag reflex would sort of defeat the whole purpose of what they were doing in the first place. The stlal might be bigger than normal but still not anything they’d find a comfortable penetrative position in. He leaned forward over his lover, intent on finding a good angle for at least a decent hand job but the change in position had his stomach heaving and Kurogane must have seen it too, as his hand had him pushed back to a vertical position as the feeling faded.

 

“Um… Kuro.” Fai began.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Kurogane was already stretching out his wrist and arm, getting ready to finish himself off. Was it a frustrating? Yeah. Was it worth getting thrown up on? Absolutely not.

 

“I’ll make it up to you.” Fai winced.

 

“Nothing to make up. It happens.” Kurogane could see Fai wasn’t exactly comfortable with the situation, but they’d had this talk before and experience said it didn’t go anywhere. Instead he took himself in hand, not bothering with a warm-up, just moved his hand tight and fast. He arched into his hand and wore the exertion of his pleasure plain across his face. It might not be his usual habit but he had an audience after all.

 

He caught Fai’s eye and the blonde was watching him hungrily. He couldn’t do much in his condition but soon there was a hand sliding under the hem of his slacks and nails scratching not-so-lightly at his ankle. He hurried, desperately needing release before his arm gave out. With a spasm and a broken gasp, he was coming absolutely silently, his eyes screwed shut, catching most of it against his palm.

 

Maybe it wasn’t the most satisfying, but when he opened his eyes, Fai was there with an appreciative smile, a tissue to wipe the mess off his fingers and sweet little kisses for his wrist.

 

It only took a few minutes to recover and clean up enough to head back to their seats. Maybe it was politeness and maybe it was just the way that ten hours on a plane had a way of messing with a person's sense of time, but if anyone noticed how long they'd been in the bathroom, no one had anything to say about it. Fai was feeling well enough to take more antihistamines and within minutes was asleep with his head in Kurogane's lap, passing a least a few hours in blessed unconsciousness.


	22. Chapter 22

 

Kurogane was maybe three quarters of the way through the background literature on a copyright dispute the label had been sent a few days ago when a figure stopped in the aisle at Fai’s feet.

 

“Doumeki.” He greeted. 

 

“Kurogane.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

The man looked a little more flat than usual. “Fai’s sleeping.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

There was the briefest of glances back a few rows. “Watanuki isn’t.”

 

Kurogane turned, subtly catching a glance of the man. He had a book in his hand but looked distracted, adjusting his seat and blankets in a near continuous cycle. There was that slightly manic look in his eye that belonged exclusively to a chain smoker five hours into cold turkey.

 

“Doesn’t he have a patch or the gum?”

 

“They didn’t help.”

 

Kurogane sighed, slipping a hand into his laptop bag and pulling out a sheet of sheet of tablets individually wrapped in foil and plastic. “He can take two now and then no more than one every five hours.” He held out the package and Doumeki accepted it graciously.

 

Yuuko watched as Doumeki retreated then stood to drape herself over the back of Fai’s chair. “Look at you taking such good care of the children.”

 

He scowled at her. What might have been yelling was a harsh whisper in deference to Fai’s slumber. “Shut up.”

 

“It warms my heart to see you get all mother hennish like this.” She reached down to tuck a lock of blonde hair behind Fai’s ear where his head lay in Kurogane’s lap. He tensed but when the blonde didn’t stir, he relaxed again.

 

“I’m not a mother hen, Yuuko.” He tried to start reading again but she ignored the hint.

 

“No, you’re right. You’re much more ‘Daddy’, aren’t you?” The chair shifted under her elbow as she rested her chin in a hand, clearly not about to go anywhere.

 

Whatever retort Kurogane had ready was cut off by the dinging of the intercom. “Good afternoon this is first officer Mokona and I hope you are all enjoying your flight today!” The voice was light and sweet and ridiculously cute. Yuuko glanced ahead where her band was sitting in a row together. Yes, they’d noticed. “May I just say what an honor it is to be flying such a prestigious group of passengers. It is our pleasure to be serving you and if you should need anything please let any member of staff know. I’d just like to announce that we are about half of the way to Japan and we have about six hours left in our flight time. Have a pleasant journey!”

 

The plane lapsed back into its whitenoise-roar version of silence, and Kurogane turned back to his paper, the singer in the row behind him thankfully distracted.

 

Yuuko watched as her band seemed to be discussing something. Then the girls manhandled a reluctant Mokona to the aisle. Hesitantly he walked toward the cockpit.

 

As soon as he was clear the girls looked back to Yuuko and scurried back to join her, exited grins on their faces. Preemptively she held up a finger against her lips and tipped her head towards Fai. Maru and Moro spotted him. “Shhh! He’s sleeping.” “We must be very quiet!” They whispered to each other.

 

She made room and the girls took the two empty seats left in the row. “Did you hear that?” Maru asked. Moro answered before Yuuko had the chance. “There is another Mokona driving the plane!”

 

“Yes, I heard!”

 

“We told him to go talk to her.” “She sounded so cute!” They all watched in anticipation as their drummer knocked on the door.

 

A steward answered it.

 

“Ah! Hello, Sir. How can I help you?”

 

“Um… Hi. I was just wondering if I could maybe meet your first officer?” The steward looked at him doubtfully. “Nothing strange! It’s just, that’s my name too and it’s such a rare name I thought it might be good to say ‘Hi’?” A deep red dusted his dark cheeks as he blushed. “Oh wait, she’s probably busy flying the plane, right? I’ll… Maybe I can come back later or something?”

 

The steward turned as the voice called out “Wait!” There was a hushed conversation then the steward moved aside and the pilot came to stand at the door. She was about as short as he was, maybe an inch or two taller but some of that height she owed to the smart black pumps on her feet.  Her blonde hair was tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck and her violet-blue eyes looked beautiful against her uniform. “You said your name is Mokona too?”

 

He couldn’t help but grin. The voice was just too cute. “Yeah! It’s nice to meet you!” He still had to introduce himself. He wasn’t exactly a household name yet. Yet.

 

She held out a hand with a friendly grin and he took it, their hands fleetingly almost making a sort of yin-yang sign. He was feeling uncharacteristically shy, but still was reluctant to pull his hand away and break it.

 

“I’d invite you in to have a more comfortable conversation but we’re not allowed to have passengers in here.” She shrugged regretfully. “And since I just went on shift I’m not really supposed to leave the cockpit.”

 

“Oh, that’s fine. I mean, I just wanted to make sure I said hello. No worries.” He turned to let her get back to her business. She caught him with a hand on the shoulder and his cheeks were warm as he turned back to her, hoping it wasn’t showing too badly.

 

“Maybe I can come back and sit with you in a few hours when I’m off my shift?” He felt better. She was blushing enough for both of them.

 

“Yeah of course!” He grinned broadly. “Here…” He searched his lapel. He was wearing one of his favorite vests; the one with the patches and pins he’d been collecting since he was a kid. On the edge of his left lapel was a circular red one with ‘Crossroad Karma’ written on it. It had been part of a merchandising line that ended up being scraped and this was one of only about fifty that had ever been made. He slipped the back off the pin and offered it to the pilot. “So you don’t forget!”

 

She blinked at it before smiling and taking off her own company-issued pin. “How about we trade for a little bit?” She picked up the red pin, and replaced it with her own.

 

He held it up to look at it more closely. It was blue with her agency’s logo on it, a pair of stylized wings. With a smile he put it where his red one usually belonged. She did the same on her own blazer.

 

“I have to…” She nodded her head to where her captain was covering for her at the controls.

 

“Of course!” He said, waving and starting to back away. “Later?”

 

“Later!” She grinned as she slipped the door shut.


	23. Chapter 23

 

The last thing anyone wanted to deal with after a ten hour flight was crowds and paparazzi, so it was with great relief that everyone in the bands (and Kazahaya; where they went, he went) and on the security team were inconspicuously whisked away to the penthouse apartments they’d rented for their longer stay in Tokyo. Left behind were the thankfully well-rested Kurogane and Doumeki and their still chemically groggy charges. Crew had taken their luggage ahead for them, so it was with empty hands that they made it to the meeting space of the airport.

 

It was a busy part of the day and it wasn’t easy to spot someone in the crowd.

 

“What are we looking for here?” Doumeki asked. Watanuki had already made a beeline for the curb where he could spend some quality time with a lighter and some nicotine.

 

“Two young women.” Kurogane said scanning the crowd. “One has short reddish hair. The other long and black. About this tall.” He held a hand up at mid chest.

 

“I see them.” Fai said said with a mischievous smile, hugging Kurogane’s arm. He wasn’t quite using Kurogane for support but he could still feel the unevenness in his gate.

 

“What? Where?” Kurogane followed the blonde’s line of sight, annoyed that he’d spotted them first. But sure enough there they were, holding up a sign just like all the Taxi drivers around them. But their names weren’t on it. Instead just a black ink drawing of a cat and dog. “They’re never going to let that go, are they?”

 

“Of course not, Big Dog.” Fai patted his shoulder as he moved ahead to greet the girls.

 

They met with hugs and and squeals. Kurogane tried to get away with a polite bow but Tomoyo dragged him into her arms to plant a kiss on his cheek and Sakura looked like she might just about cry of happiness. They collected Watanuki on the way out and found Syaoran waiting at the car. He got a hug from Fai and ruffled hair from Kurogane for his efforts.

 

It wasn’t too long of a drive before the group had found the café for lunch. Sakura offered to sit outside where Watanuki could keep smoking but he politely declined, satiated for the moment.

 

It felt a little strange, sharing a lunch with a group that were obviously such old friends. He felt a little like a third wheel. Or rather the six and seventh wheel to some sort of five wheeled car. But the company really was charming and it wasn’t long at all before the table had fallen into comfortable conversation together. They talked long past they had eaten and even ended up ordering midday desserts. Eventually though, Sakura started to fade. Right away Tomoyo had a hand running along her back comfortingly and Syoaran gently took her hand. Both gestures had been subtle, not nearly enough to interrupt conversation, but you didn’t have to be too perceptive to notice she wasn’t feeling well. Both Kurogane and Watanuki were trying to figure out how to address it tactfully when Fai got there first.

 

“Sakura, sweetheart, are you feeling all right?” His voice was light and friendly. “We’re so happy to see you, but we’ll be in Japan for a while if this isn’t the best time.” They had planned to watch the firework festival together that night but it wouldn't be the end of the world to cancel. 

 

She looked up at him, a little caught off guard. “No, it’s…” She seemed nervous, glancing to both Tomoyo and Syaoran for some sort of conformation. Despite the weariness in her brow, her eyes were sparkling and it looked like she was trying to keep a grin under control. Her companions looked much the same as they gave her encouraging nods. “I’m- We’re-” She lost the fight against the grin and it broke out like sunshine across her face. “I’m pregnant.”

 

Kurogane couldn’t move. His jaw was hanging open and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it beside look at the trio in front of him. They were almost bursting with joy.

 

Fai however was quick to be out of his seat and around the table, gathering up all three in a hug. “Congratulations!” He started fussing over her and the two at her side fell away to let him. He fixed her hair, held her shoulders back to get a good look at her, hugged her tight again. Like he was making sure that she was real. That the moment was real. “I’m so happy for you!” There was a small choke in his voice and they both looked a little red around the eyes. “I’m sorry!” he said, wiping away a happy tear. “That’s just… wow!”

 

“Fai!” She said, crying too now and burying a grin against his shoulder. “Don’t be sorry! Just…” She grabbed around his rib cage and squeezed him tight.

 

Fai squeezed back, petting her hair under his chin, handling her like the precious thing she was. He looked back to Kurogane, lost for words but his expression saying everything. Fai’s eyes were red and splotchy in the way they always were when he cried and he was biting a lip trying to keep his emotions in check. It wasn’t working. His eyes were overflowing with joy as he held Sakura close and on either side Tomoyo and Syaoran watched in proud affection.

 

This might be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, Kurogane thought. Time flowed on and the moment passed, but he’d keep that tableau safe in his heart and memories for the rest of his life.

 

Eventually Fai came back to his seat, now sitting against his side and holding his hand in a tight, excited grip as Sakura’s partners started giving all the details. He finally managed to close his mouth.

 

“We found out a few months ago,” Tomoyo said, tucking a strand of Sakura’s auburn hair back behind her ear as they looked at each other dotingly. “We’ve been waiting for the right time to start telling everyone.”

 

Syaoran scooted back to her side and laid an arm protectively around her waist, his other hand running soothingly along her forearm where it rested on the table. “The doctors say the first trimester is the hardest.” He addressed Kurogane and Fai. “We’re hoping things get easier soon.”

 

Sakura glanced back over to him then to their guests. “It’s not that bad!” She said earnestly. “Honestly I just get tired sometimes and it can be a little hard to keep food down.”

 

“I’m sure you’re doing great.” Fai comforted.

 

“You’re strong.” Kurogane said. It was the first thing he’d said since the news had been shared and she looked up to him a little surprised. “You can handle it.” There was nothing unkind or dismissive about the way he said it.

 

She nodded to him seriously.

 

At the corner of the table Watanuki was feeling a little lost but more than happy to bask in the happiness of his new friends. Fleetingly he glanced over at Doumeki who was staring at him like he was some sort of time bomb.

 

Watanuki glanced at him questioningly and Doumeki just blinked at him, like he was coming out of some trance. It didn’t sit right and he laid a hand over his cigarette box, nodding subtly to the door with a raised eyebrow. Doumeki nodded and they made their polite excuses and walked outside together.

 

“What’s up with you?” Watanuki asked, lighting up once they had found a spot to smoke with a little privacy. “You look like you’re having a heart attack.”

 

“I think that’s the answer to our problem.”

 

“ _Our_ problem?”

 

“You. Me. Himawari.” Doumeki watched Watanuki carefully as he waited for the gears to turn.

 

“You think…” Watanuki looked up at him guardedly. “The three of us?” His cheeks were burning and there was no chill to blame it on. 

 

“Why not?”

 

“Would you even be into that?” Watanuki asked warily.

 

“Wouldn’t you?” Doumeki was looking at him very seriously. It wasn’t rhetorical in the least.

 

Watanuki stared hard down at the pavement, ashing his cigarette in a thoughtless motion while his mind raced a mile a minute. “I…” How was someone supposed to answer that without time to think first? “What about Himawari?”

 

Doumeki finally looked away, eyes scanning the bright advertisements hung along the road. “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out. You know her better than I do.”

 

Watanuki’s face twisted at an unpleasant memory as he leaned back against the wall. “She certainly flirted with you enough.”

 

Doumeki looked over at him in honest surprise. “She was just being friendly. When did she have the chance when she spent all of our time together dotting over you?”

 

Watnuki just looked at him, not arguing the point but not accepting it either. “She didn’t even blink when you tricked her into thinking we were together.”

 

Doumeki joined him against the wall, looking down at him. “Isn’t that a good thing if we're going to try dating her together?”

 

Watanuki glanced back up at him. "Who says I'm even dating you?" The thin silver frames of his glasses did absolutely nothing to hide the conflict on his face. There was resentment, anger. Then uncertainty. A touch of lust. The barest flicker of hope. Doumeki ran a steadying hand down Watanuki's shoulder and that blue gaze caught on his lip. “You’re kind of a pervert, you know that?”

 

Doumeki leaned down. Watanuki hesitantly stretched himself up to meet the kiss but at the last second Doumeki ducked to the side and gave him a peck on the cheek instead. 

 

It felt electric anyway.

 

When he pulled back he left Watanuki wide eyed and indignant. “You ass.” he grumbled, taking a sharp inhale on the cigarette and blowing it away testily. 

 

Doumeki just leaned back against the wall, watching the traffic go by, smug look on his face.


	24. Chapter 24

Jet lag wasn’t so much a thing when you suffered from chronic insomnia, but if it gave him an excuse to sleep in the middle of the day without someone fussing over him, Subaru wasn’t about to take that for granted.

 

He’d taken a quick shower, changed into his favorite soft pajamas and pulled the heavy blackout curtains closed against the midday sun. He was just about lulled into the merciful embrace of unconsciousness when his cellphone went off.

 

He groaned, reaching out a hand to check the number.

 

He just wanted sleep. To rest. His eyes were burning and his head was aching. But she must have stayed up late just for him in Paris if she was calling midday in Tokyo.

 

He looked at the phone as the caller ID photo looked up at him accusingly. With each ring it buzzed at him and illuminated the room with a flash. He hesitated. Too long. One more ring and it would go to voice mail.

 

At the last possible moment he pressed the green icon to answer the call. Tentatively he put it too his ear. “Hello Hokuto.”

 

“Subaruuuu!!” He held the phone away until she calmed down.

 

“How are you?”

 

“How am I? Who cares! I’m good. But that doesn’t matter! How are you and who’s this guy you’re with?”

 

Guy? She couldn’t mean…

 

“What is it now?” He groaned. “You can’t believe everything you see on the fan sites.” It wouldn’t be the first time.

 

“Don’t play coy with me, brother dearest. This times there’s pictures and everything!”

 

“Pictures?” Subaru’s blood ran cold.

 

“Well, just the one, really.”

 

They hadn’t even done anything to have pictures of. But… But sneaking around with someone around every hotel you went to was certainly suspicious. And the way they’d sat together so intimately while he played for him hadn’t exactly been platonic. If there had been enough shots to establish a pattern… “Hokuto this is serious. Can you send them to me?”

 

“Ahhh!” She shrieked. “So you are together?” It didn’t seem right that she should have so much energy when she was the one staying up all night and the sun was shining for him beyond the curtains.

 

“Hokatu please!”

 

“Fine, fine…” There was some typing on her end and an email alert showed up from her on his phone. Anxiety twisted at his gut but he had to get this over with. He clicked the link and forced himself to look.

 

It was back from Seattle. A time when he and Seishiro had climbed a fire escape and he’d played some of his oldest songs in the rain. He sighed in relief. They were practically in silhouette and an entire flight of steps apart. If the shot had caught his face at the time it might have been a different story but this, this was fine. If he really needed to he could even deny that it was him.

 

Now that the panic was washing out of him, he could appreciate the picture. It was in a sort of natural grey-scale with the muted colors of the building and stormy lighting. Artistic, even.

 

He saved it to his phone’s library.

 

“So… who is it? When is the wedding?”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

“Subaru!” Her voice was reprimanding. “That might pass for the press but I know you. You wouldn’t be doing this with someone if you weren’t interested.”

 

“Fine, but the whole world doesn’t need to know!”

 

“So are interested!” She squealed. “I knew it! Ok, don’t worry. I can keep my mouth shut but you have to give your sister the details.”

 

“There isn’t really much to tell. He’s our security guy. We just… started being at the same place at the same time one day.”

 

“‘Being at the same place at the same time.’” She quoted back to let him know just how ridiculous he sounded. “Subaru! Why won’t you just tell me?”

 

“There really nothing to tell.”

 

“So you haven’t, you know…”

 

“No!”

 

She sounded a little disappointed. “Have you kissed?”

 

“No.”

 

“Held hands?” She was grasping at straws now.

 

“No.”

 

She sighed heavily. “You’re lucky you have me, brother. Don’t worry. We’ll get this ball rolling.”

 

“I don’t even know if I want to.”

 

The line on her end was quiet in contemplation for a moment. Then, “Do you like him?”

 

There was no hesitation. “He's nice. It’s been fun exploring with him. And he doesn’t seem to mind when I get… you know…” How to put it?

 

“When you go all tortured artist on him?”

 

Subaru answered with a wince. “Yeah.”

 

“Is he interested?”

 

He was hit by the memory of fingers against his scalp and the way he’d allowed Subaru’s hand to trail along his thigh.

 

“I think so.”

 

“Well,” her voice was chipper. “I think you should go for it.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes! I can tell when you like someone, and if you haven’t scared him off yet, I doubt you will. Make a move already!”  
  
“Maybe you’re right…” Subaru mused, studying the photo and slowly giving into the part of him that had been quietly getting more and more invested in Seishiro.

 

“Of course I am.”

 

He pulled the covers over his head, reducing the world to the small blanket cave and his sister’s voice. With a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time, he set the photo to be his background wallpaper.

 

It was stupid. Childish. Naive.

 

He was smiling anyway.

 

The display washed his features in grey light for a moment before he held it back up to his ear and everything went dark.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual reminder that this exists:
> 
> http://silverservererror.tumblr.com/
> 
> It's basically a side inspiration blog where I've been posting what everyone wears, eats and also some settings.

After lunch the triad offered their home to their guest as everyone got ready for Sumidagawa, one of the firework festivals Tokyo held every Summer. The tour had been scheduled specifically so they could catch it. The bands would be at some roof top party hosted by a local producer. It would be an amazing viewpoint and a luxurious party, but at the end of the day it would essentially be work as they networked, schmoozed and posed for photographers all night. The rest had understandably preferred to experience the festival from the ground like you were supposed to. Or at least that’s how Kurogane had thought of it. Fai had at first volunteered to rent out a rooftop himself but had soon got excited about how ‘authentic’ and ‘real’ it would be in a way that was seriously starting to grate on his nerves.

 

A call to the tour crew had someone digging through their luggage to deliver Kurogane and Watanuki’s Yukatas. Fai hadn’t brought his and Doumeki didn’t have one period, so the blonde had volunteered to show him the shopping districts where they could find robes for the evening festival.

 

Tomoyo had driven them home, Kurogane in the front seat. Behind them Watanuki checked for new messages from Yuuko while Sakura fell asleep on her husband’s shoulder.

 

“Do you think they’ll be ok?” Tomoyo had asked as she pulled away and watched the pair disappear in the rear-view mirror. “Last I heard it, Fai’s Japanese was atrocious.”

 

“It’s gotten worse since then.” Kurogane winced but there was the tiniest suggestion of a smile. Every few months basically since they met, Fai would attempt to ‘finally actually learn it this time’, but life always seemed to get in the way or cause some distraction. The only thing that really stuck was what he sometimes used in the bedroom. Even if the pronunciation was always a little off, it was… effective. But still, not exactly something that would help him during a day out at the markets. “Maybe it 'll give him some motivation to study harder.”

 

He hadn’t joined in with Tomoyo’s slightly evil laughter but he appreciated it all the same.

 

As soon as they’d arrived Sakura had retired to the bedroom for a long nap to get her energy back up before the celebration. Tomoyo caught Kurogane’s elbow and they retreated to her home office for a private word. Tokyo was expensive and space was at a premium but with three incomes and only one bedroom their home had space for things like this. He was absolutely not surprised that on top of her law tomes and filing cabinets were the triad’s yukatas and a sea of accessories she’d been considering to go with them.

 

“I see you've redecorated.” Kurogane offered.

 

“Thanks.” She took in the seeming chaos with pride. “I wonder if we’ll have to convert it into a nursery.”

 

“Or just move into a bigger house.” He caught her eye and she smiled a little conspiratorially. It wasn’t exactly a secret how well her practice was going, but you did need to know what you were looking for in order to see it.

 

“So, in other news…” She lifted a jewelry box off a stack of files before handing them over. “I don’t want you to get excited, but I think I may have found something.”

 

He frowned. “Something about Fai?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He opened it carefully, flipping through to get a feel for the types of documentation she was showing him. “You’ve still been working on this?” It was a fight he’d given up years ago.

 

“Not like before but…” She shrugged. How could she stop? “Every once in a while.”

 

Kurogane carefully moved a stack of obi of a chair to a bookshelf and sat down, starting on the first page. He paused to look up at her. She was leaning against the desk, one foot crossing the other at the ankle and her arms folded across her chest. She was smiling serenely and her eyes were the same as always; kind but ruthless, as if somehow those qualities made up two sides of the same intention. He was hit with such a powerful sense of deja vu. It was just like LA except now she was all grown up.

 

“Thank you.” He said.

 

“Of course.” She nodded.

 

Down the stairs and in the kitchen, but for all intents and purposes a world away, Watanuki and Syaoran were getting to know each other. The former had volunteered to cook them dinner for the night and the latter was quick to offer whatever help he could. They stood at the counter together, Watanuki chopping vegetables while Syaoran cleaned them at the sink before handing them over.

 

“It’s great to finally meet you.” Watanuki said, bringing them out of a comfortable silence. “I mean, I know we’ve met. But spending time together like this. It’s nice.”

 

Syaoran paused in the middle of rinsing off a carrot, caught off guard. But he looked over to find Watanuki looking at him shyly if a little awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure the familiarity would be welcome.

 

“Yeah.” Syaoran gave him a warm smile as he handed the vegetable over. It seemed to put him at ease. “Kurogane and Fai talk about you all the time. You must be really close friends.”

 

“They do?” Watanuki hadn’t really expected that. Maybe he wasn’t over as much as Yuuko but now that he thought about it, he did see the pair more weeks than he didn’t. Maybe even once or twice weekly if you counted time when he was working. And they always seemed to be meddling in his business or trying to boss him around with something or other. From a certain angle he could see that as caring. “I guess we are friends. But not like you are!” Because through out their entire acquaintance he’d been hearing about these three second hand. The pair had toasted to Tomoyo the night she passed the bar exam. Yuuko had spent actual hours cooing over pictures of the ceremony with Fai when they came back from the wedding. But it was the more mundane things too. Somehow he knew when Syaoran had a cold or how Sakura had felt conflicted after visiting the cat café.

 

He might spend time around Fai and Kurogane but these three had _history_ with them.

 

“Um… Syaoran…I know we’re not that close yet, but… I mean… I was wondering if I could ask…” Watanuki was floundering.

 

“If you could ask about the three of us?” Syaoran said carefully. He’d run out of things to wash and dried his hands on a the sink towel.

 

“Uh… yeah.” Watanuki looked sheepish and his cheeks burned a little. “How did you know?” He asked a little weakly.

 

“What else would have you this flustered?” Syaoran turned to rest a hip against the sink, body language consciously open and relaxed. “It’s alright.” He smiled. “People are always a little curious.”

 

“I guess… I just wanted to ask…” He struggled to articulate. How did it work? Didn’t you ever get jealous? Can you really be in love with two people at once? Aren’t you scared they’re going to leave you someday? What did your families think? Do you get strange looks on the street when you’re out together? “…How did you know it would work out ok?”

 

Syaoran paused. That wasn’t what people usually lead with. And Watanuki was looking at him so earnestly.

 

The usual answer got caught on the tip of his tongue and before he knew it, something a little more honest was coming out.

 

“I didn’t… Not at first.” Syaoran’s gaze dropped and he turned his back to the sink. “I mean, at first… at first it was terrifying.” Old memories were obviously playing out in front of his unfocused eyes. But then that brown gaze flicked back up to where Watanuki stood frozen, knife in his hand resting still against the cutting board.

“Did you ever hear how we met her?”

 

“No.”

 

“It was at the same time we met Kurogane and Fai actually. She was working as an intern under Kurogane at the time, still going to law school. And… and Sakura and I were already engaged. I mean…” He caught Watanuki’s eye and let just a little bit of that remembered fear show in his eyes. “How scary is that, right? ‘Honey I love you but can we please postpone the wedding while I explore my feelings for this gorgeous, well paid law student I just met?’”

 

The silence hung and they both took a moment to indulge their private insecurities.

 

_‘Watanuki you’re really cute and all but have you met Doumeki? He’s a journalist with a degree, not a glorified babysitter with an apron.’  
_

 

In his head she was laughing, like his confession was some great joke he'd just told. 

 

_'Watanuki you're always so funny!'_

 

Even in his worst case scenario nightmare daydreams she looked like sunshine and happiness.

 

His eye line fell back to the cutting board and he cut a few more slices of carrot. “And you were ok with that?”

 

“You’ve met her. Could you say ‘no’ to that face?” Syaoran grimaced but even that was more bittersweet than anything purely painful. He shrugged. “It was kind of a moot point by then, anyway. It was going to be postponed anyway. She need time to recover.”

 

“Recover?”

 

“I mean, who wants to walk down the aisle on crutches?.” He clarified with a wince.

 

Watanuki was just feeling more and more lost. “She was hurt?”

 

Syaoran looked at him strangely. A slight air of panic, but mostly confusion. “Did they never tell you about the accident?”

 

Watanuki winced and shook his head.

 

“Oh!” The regret was written plain across his face. “Um… Sorry I just assumed.” He frowned. “I really shouldn’t… It’s not my place to tell.”

 

“Of course! Consider it unheard!” Of course he was curious but Watanuki tried to give him a comforting smile and grasped at something, anything else to talk about. “So… You and Tomoyo? You don’t…?”

 

The guilt was wiped off Syaoran’s face but it was replaced by a bright red blush.

 

“Sorry!” Watanuki turned back to his carrot and very mechanically kept chopping. “You- You don’t have to answer that.”

 

Syaoran took a moment to calm down. “No, I mean… It’s relevant, right? You’re asking for advice? You and Doumeki must be thinking about a third?”

 

In his mind Watanuki immediately corrected that Doumeki _was_ the third, butting in on his and Himawari’s obviously destined romance, but it didn’t seem like something he needed to clarify given the situation. “Was it that obvious?”

 

Syaoran just grinned, a little pained. “I mean from the questions you’ve been asking...” He turned back to the sink, hands idle and a little awkward as they gripped the counter top. “I don’t love her the same way I love Saukra, but… I don’t think anyone can love two different people in exactly the same way, you know? And… and I can’t imagine a life without her anymore either.” He was very carefully staring out the window at nothing in particular and his voice dropped. “We weren’t always together when we were… _together_. Especially at the beginning. But you share a lover. You share a bed. You share a house.” He paused, smiling. “You share child. The distinctions stop mattering. You become three instead of two pairs.”

 

“Do you think it would be possible to keep it separate?”

 

“Who knows?” Syaoran shrugged. “It’s not like I’m an expert. I just know what worked for us.”

 

The silence hung comfortable again as Watanuki finally finished chopping. As he started the rice his phone rang: a distress call from Doumeki requesting a pickup as he and Fai had gotten hopelessly lost. Syaoran volunteered to pick them up, but not before an beeming smile, a friendly hand on his shoulder and a promise that if Watanuki ever needed advice or help about his relationships, he was there for him.

 

Watanuki was grateful when they returned with a much lightened mood. He wasn’t used to all this earnest emotion. He hung out with Yuuko all day. Most most of the fondness pointed in his direction came in the form of backhanded compliments or attached to orders.

 

They gathered in the kitchen and Doumeki took up his normal spot at Watanuki’s side as they worked on the food.

 

And wasn’t that odd? That there was anything about his presence that Watanuki had started to think of as ‘normal’. When had that happened?

 

“What went wrong? Forget how to read a map?”

 

“ _Someone’s_ Japanese is much worse than he had previously implied.” The comment was nominally for Watanuki but he spoke loud enough that the whole room could hear.

 

“Oh!” Fai took the bait in a strained voice that was agitated but fighting for friendly in a ‘See? See how pleasant and friendly I am despite the situation?’ type of way. “Well at least I know _any_ Japanese.”

 

Doumeki turned over his shoulder to stare down the man. Watanuki and Syaoran looked on not sure how to break the tension. “And why would I speak Japanese Fai? I’m a third generation New Yorker. Do you speak Swedish?”

 

“Swedish?”

 

“Or Norwegian or Russian or… Where _are_ you from?”

 

Fai was quickly backing down. “Who knows.” He said with a shrug and a sudden fascination for the tile floor.

 

“See? He doesn’t even know where he came from and I’m supposed to speak a language we haven’t used since my grandfather?”

 

Watanuki swung his cleaver with a lot more force than was strictly necessary but it was loud and at least did the job of getting everyone’s attention.

 

“Did you get what you went for?” He asked pleasantly in the silence.

 

“Yeah,” Fai said tentatively, holding up the two neatly folded robes for the others to see.

 

Watanuki glanced back then immediately did a double take. One look at Syaoran’s red cheeks told him he’d seen it too. Stifling a grin, he wiped off his hands. He left with a “Watch the pot.” aimed at Doumeki and headed up the stairs.

 

“You’ll want to come see this.” He said poking a head in the office. Kurogane was engrossed in reading but Tomoyo was holding up two fabrics against his shoulder, testing how they would look against his skin tone.

 

“What?” He asked, setting his papers down and they followed him back downstairs curiously.

 

“Doumeki and Fai came back with women’s clothing.” Watanuki said, practically bursting with how funny it was.

 

“You’re kidding.” Tomoyo chuckled.

 

“I mean, I guess if you’re not used to telling them apart… Doumeki wouldn’t know any better.”

 

“Yeah, but Fai does.” Kurogane was scowling. “Maybe Doumeki can borrow one of Syaoran’s but we’ll have to find something else for Fai.”

 

They breached the door way and were treated to the sight of Fai holding out his newly bought furisode, admiring the deep blues and the intricate phoenix motif trailing down towards the hem.

 

“Oh no.” Tomoyo said. “He’s wearing that.”

 

Kurogane huffed but knew better than to argue when she had that look in her eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I thought I was writing: Ha, ha. Crossdressing.
> 
> What I wrote: This monster.


	26. Chapter 26

If touring was essentially a months long sleepover, then tonight it was time for a thousands-of-dollars-in-supplies-and-labor, professionally-assisted red carpet makeover. Maru and Moro were already dressed in their matching yukatas with their hair and makeup done to perfection, even if it was a little crunchy and uncomfortably heavy respectively. Mokona had volunteered for Mugetsu sitting duty as he was waiting until the last moment to put his outfit on, not used to or comfortable in the eastern style clothing. The intention was to keep the twins’ outfits dog hair free, but it was a doomed effort as soon as they insisted on showing Mokona all the tricks he could do.

 

Kamui, Fuuma and Kazahaya were hanging back in Yuuko’s bedroom where a team of three stylists were currently assembling a kimono with an obi that tied into a pair of butterfly wings at her back. It was gorgeously effortless looking but was actually supported by a complicated rigging system attached to her waist and carefully hidden in folds of fabric. A kimono, and certainly _this_ kimono, would normally be too formal for the festival, but the party they had been invited to was an _appearance_ which meant she could get away with just about anything.

 

Kamui and Fuuma were present because any time that _could_ be spent in Yuuko’s presence _would_ be spent in Yuuko’s presence and Kazahaya because he was once again working. It had taken quite some convincing that, yes, she _did_ realize she wasn’t dressed yet and that was the whole point.

 

So he had gone to work. The shots were artistic and tasteful. Her silhouette against the changing screen. Her lower legs and the folds of fabric at her feet. Her shoulder and back as a stylist draped the fabric around her. The lacing of the corset that acted as harness to the wing rigging.

 

It wasn’t like she was even that exposed. The underclothes she had on covered everything important but also had more black straps and sheer paneling than was strictly necessary. And it wasn’t just the kimono that had a butterfly motif. Yuuko was famous for her ability to make almost anything sensual and she certainly didn’t disappoint now. Kazahaya had plenty to work with. Every few minutes the already arduous task of assembling her outfit had to be paused so that Kazahaya could get the shot just right. It was funny how the boy, usually so shy and apologetic, would get so comfortable once he was behind a lens.

 

Kazahaya had been invited with an open ended contract, but Yuuko had seen a few of his shots and after speaking to Kakei, they had decided it would be good to use his work in a book journaling the tour, to be released around the holidays probably. The news hadn’t reached him yet, but she was waiting, interested to test how long Kakei’s chain of command took to reach him.

 

On the other side of the impromptu shoot was the arsenal of the makeup artist, currently laid out for her work on Yuuko. Kamui wandered along the counter curiously. About half the tools and products he recognized, but so many were just beyond him. He smiled, finger tracing along something he definitely knew how to use, before picking it up and taking it back to the couch.

 

“Hey, Fuuma.” He said, tossing it over.

 

He caught it easily and uncapped the eyeliner as Kamui sat down in front of him, eyes cast down. He started drawing without further prompting. It was smudged and messy and God, those blue-violet eyes were gorgeous. “Perfect.” He said, leaning back to admire his work, his hand more on Kamui’s neck than his shoulder. Kamui leaned forward into his personal space, a hand on his knee before very earnestly thanking him.

 

Ever since that night at the diner in Vancouver, they’d been playing gay chicken on hard-mode, trying to see just how far they could go before Kazahaya realized how wrong he’d been. The answer was hilariously far.

 

They’d never really meant for this to be a secret.

 

In the beginning they’d kept quiet because the situation had been so precarious. They’d been best friends for so long, practically family and there had been so much to lose if it hadn’t worked out. He’d have lost his best friend. It would have driven a schism between their families. The band would have been destroyed. It had been so terrifying he’d barely had time to bat an eyelid over the implications the relationship had had on his sexuality.

 

But they’d held on, rode through the fear and on the other side was the wonderful revelation that everything was basically exactly the same except now there were blowjobs. In fact Kamui first realized he was probably in love with Fuuma while the guy’s dick had been halfway down his throat.

 

If someone were to ask, Fuuma would insist he’d known for years.

 

And maybe that had been true, Kamui thought, letting his hand squeeze a little and glancing over at the photographer. Fuuma had always been so much faster at sorting out his emotions. He was mature like that.

 

Kazahaya wasn’t looking their way, too engrossed with his work.

 

Kaumi just sighed, slumping a little in disappointment. Fuuma grinned, covering his hand with his own and looking at him knowingly.

 

The upshot of trying to keep things quiet those first few months had been that they both discovered that they were really, _really_ into sneaking around. Kisses were charged with so much passion when they had to be stolen in quiet corners back stage. Trying to sneak into each others' rooms at night without any of the crew noticing meant their hearts were pounding from the moment they closed the door. They’d toy with fans and reporters, giving them just enough to put the pieces together but always leave that room for doubt and wait in anticipation to see if anyone would dare print the story.

 

When they’d been _actually_ forbidden from telling anyone, it stopped being a game and fun was the furthest thing from what they’d felt.

 

But six months and a quiet yet fierce legal battle later, they’d switched over to Destiny Records. Kamui had been resistant. They were a punk band and Destiny had been Pop and Top Forty for a while now, but Subaru had insisted that as long as they were writing, it didn’t matter what label they published under. At the time they weren’t anything like as popular, but the fans they did have were loyal. The transition hadn’t been without its growing pains, but at least he felt like Destiny’s intentions were good.

 

As time went on their popularity grew and they were giving a steady schedule of concerts. A little out of spite, (and a lot because he enjoyed it so much) Kamui developed a habit of being as blatant as he could about his sexuality on stage. He’d always been a tactile person, platonic or not, and he didn’t bother keeping his hands off his band mates anymore. Subaru hadn’t minded, playing into it as much as he did, and it probably wasn’t any more than every third show that Fuuma would find himself with fingers in his hair, tipping his head back and Kamui kissing him soundly to the roar of the crowd.

 

And the strangest thing happened.

 

People _still_ didn’t get it.

 

Maybe because they’d teased it for so long. Maybe because the fans had already developed into two camps that were used to fighting over it. ‘He’s just performing.’ ‘They’ve known each other since they were kids.’ ‘Of course they’re not together, they’re just really close.’ ‘They’re platonic kisses.’

 

At least the universe seemed to have a sense of humor.

 

Kamui pulled his hand away, taking the eyeliner. “You too?” he offered.

 

The pencil was plucked out of his grasp by the slightly tense looking makeup artist. “You shouldn’t use someone else's eyeliner. Didn’t anyone ever teach you makeup hygiene?”

 

“Uh, no?” Kamui said, a little confused. “Sorry?”

 

She sighed, looking over Fuuma’s work. “Yuuko,” She called over her shoulder. “Do you want me to do anything with this?” She was trying to ask if she should fix it without being offensive. Not that Fuuma would have been offended. It was her job after all.

 

Yuuko gave them an appraising look. “No, I like it.” She smiled. “Very punk.”

 

The artist nodded and moved on.

 

“Speaking of punk, boys…” They turned to her, attentive. “This is your first official appearance in Japan. You need to make an impression. I want you energetic. I want you charismatic. I want you rebellious. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Miss Ichihara.” Kamui snapped earnestly. She just gave him a look. “I mean… yeah. We can do that, Yuuko.” He had a hard time talking to her like a person at the best of times but now he was also fighting the instinctual deference a person gave to someone with eyeliner that sharp.

 

“Good.” She said, keeping still while an assistant wove golden ornaments into her hair.

 

The door creaked open and the final third of Breathing Fire joined the group. “Oh!” Subaru said, taking in everyone’s appearance. “You all look amazing.”

 

As a group they shifted the credit to the stylist team who just nodded kindly as they continued on their work.

 

Kamui however seemed caught on another point. “Good! You’re finally up. You should start getting ready.”

 

Subaru frowned and Kamui already knew how the next few minutes would play out. “I was thinking I might stay in tonight. If it’s not too much of a bother.”

 

The beginnings of polite complaining from Crossroad Karma were cut off by a “Still feeling too jet-lagged?” from Fuuma and a Kamui pulling Subaru down to the couch for a semi-private word.

 

“What is it?” Kamui asked, the concern was written clear across his face but his tone was light as to not draw attention.  
  
“Honestly, I’m just knackered from the flight.”

 

They were all tired, but nights like this… This was the pay off for all the hard work they’d been putting in, right? “I’m sure no one would care if you wore something else.”

 

“It’s not that at all.” Subaru smiled, trying to convince his band mate but not totally sure how to do it.

 

“Do you want me to stay behind with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s just a party.”

 

Subaru always wondered how big that ‘it’ could get if he let Kamui indulge him. Just a party. Just one concert. Just one tour. Just a band. “It’s fine.” He said, mustering up a smile and a silent call for back-up from Fuuma.

 

“Relax, Kamui.” The drummer said. “Let the poor guy get some rest, yeah?”

 

The makeup artist passed by their couch again, but not before taking a moment’s pause to stare down Subaru from behind the back rest. Subaru just watched her back, looking slightly terrified, feeling like he’d just been caught out at something.

 

She moved on, back to Yuuko where she began painting with slightly different shades of the same red across her lips. “Eyes like that and I don’t get to play with him?” The artist pouted.

 

“Let the poor dear rest.” Yuuko chided indulgently.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone going to Sakuracon? Hit me up. ^u^

Between Tomoyo who insisted on accessorizing and styling Fai in his new purchase, and Fai himself who had a hard time showing up anywhere less than an hour late, the delay had probably been inevitable. In addition there was Sakura to consider, who no one had had the heart to wake up until the very last possible moment.

 

Suffice to say that the men went on ahead to reserve their spot on the waterfront park while Fai and the women stayed behind to finish getting ready. They spread out their blue tarp near the trees and not too far from the street of food stalls.

The girls didn’t show up until the sun was already setting. The first one to spot them had been Syaoran. He and Kurogane had been in the middle of a conversation when the young man suddenly looked beyond his shoulder with a stupid look on his face.

 

Kurogane turned to look and spotted them right away. Even if Fai hadn’t been easy to spot already, the way he walked stuck out, too. To his sides the girls moved in their sandals with an easy smoothness. Fai’s center of balance was off, too far forward in the shoe and every few steps he over-corrected and faltered. He looked amazing anyway.

 

The sun was warm, the dying light pulling the gold tones out of his blonde hair and making the smile he was giving Sakura glow. The furisode was awkward. Totally too formal. Tomoyo had even gone with giving him a woman’s obi and hung ornaments in his hair. It was wrong, something an overzealous tourist might do. But it was beautiful. Fai glanced ahead and from the preening way he smiled, Kurogane knew he’d been caught with the same dumb look on his face as he’d seen on Syaoran.

 

Maybe he was being too hard on the kid.

 

It wasn’t long before they settled into their groups on the tarp. The crowd gave a countdown and the first explosions cracked through the air.

 

Kurogane’s parents had left Japan when he was just entering school, following his father’s career to UCLA. He'd missed this sort of thing growing up. He'd been back often enough visiting that he knew how to act, knew how to speak to not give anything away, but sitting in the midst of the crowd it was hard to not feel like in some indefinable way he just didn’t fit. Like he was pretending. It wasn’t a feeling that went away when he went back to America either.

 

When he was younger it was hard not to be at least a little resentful of the move that made him citizen to two cultures and yet not quite belonging to either. But if he’d have stayed he’d have never met Tomoyo. Never met Fai. Never met any of the people he was currently sharing a tarp with.

 

Kurogane’s gaze fell away from the fireworks, instead scanning over the sea of faces all turned up and watching the show. And of course the one at his side, Fai. With each crack a new color would wash over his pale features, tinting his serene expression with every explosion. He was sitting casually, spread out on his section of the mat, his brand new furisode getting wrinkled because he had never really got the hang of sitting in the formal kneeling way. He tried not to think about how much the purchase probably cost Fai as he carelessly and possibly irreparably creased the designs. Maybe it was western culture or maybe it was just Fai, but he’d always had a habit of treating things as disposable that put Kurogane on edge.

 

He probably watched Fai for longer than he realized because eventually he got caught at it. Or maybe not. Fai was more observant than he usually gave him credit for.

 

He was treated to one of the soft smiles Fai had been wearing more and more often lately. The one that wasn’t as bright but felt more real somehow. “Hungry?” Fai asked. He wasn’t watching the fireworks anymore either.

 

Kurogane shrugged. “We just had dinner an hour ago.”

 

“How about dessert?”

 

Kurogane frowned but Fai was already reaching for the bag they’d brought with them: sweet snacks bought from the street vendors as they made their way to the water front. The plastic bag and polystyrene containers ruined the formal image Tomoyo had worked so hard to create on Fai, but nothing was perfect.

 

He pulled out one in particular and opened it. It contained some deep fried dough balls drenched in honey that Fai had first tried during their last trip. He awkwardly snapped a pair of chopsticks apart, holding them out like he was afraid of splinters, before clumsily attempting to pick one up.

 

It didn’t take long for him to give up. He smiled over at Kurogane and held the chopsticks close to his cheek in a way he probably thought was cute (It was cute, but that was beside the point.) and actually batted his eyelashes. “Oh Kurosweet! Do you think you could help me with these? They’re a little trickier than I thought they’d be.”

 

Kurogane didn’t act impressed. “Do it yourself. You need more practice anyway.”

 

“But Kurgs-”

 

The look Kurogane gave him must have worked because he stopped asking. It wasn’t like Kurogane particularly minded. Chopsticks were hard. But Fai had had years to figure it out, and the number of times he’d talked him into feeding him somewhere public and wildly inappropriate was frankly ridiculous.

 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping an eye on his attempts. After a near miss that would have left a honey smear down the front of furisode and obi alike, Kurogane relented, taking the sweets and chopsticks with a huff.

 

“Thank you, Kurgy~.”

 

“Whatever.” He held one of the desserts out, inches from Fai’s mouth. His blue eyes were playful and appreciative as he chomped it off the end of the sticks.

 

He was going back for a second piece of dough when Fai surprised him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

 

That sort of behavior was frowned upon, but the night was dark and Fai was beautiful.

 

Kurogane tipped his chin, angling them into something a little deeper. It was short but they both lingered as they pulled away.

 

Kurogane frowned, pretending annoyance. “That was way too sweet.”

 

Fai just crinkled his nose, feeling fond at the old complaint. “Well, I’d like another.”

 

Kurogane didn’t acknowledge the double meaning, just held up another dough ball. As he ate it, Fai’s eyes were laughing anyway.

 

Above them a particularly long chain of large fireworks went off and the crowd as a group murmured appreciatively.

 

Towards the back of their tarp, stuck watching Kurogane and Fai flirting over dessert on one side and the picture of marital bliss that was the triad on the other, things were starting to get awkward for the remaining hypothetically-but-not-really-a-couple couple.

 

“Do you wanna-?” Watanuki tipped his head back towards the trees.

 

“Yeah.” Doumeki seemed just as relieved to be getting out of there.

 

He briefly considered letting their companions know they were leaving for a while, but that would involved getting closer to the intimacy they were escaping in the first place so he thought better of it.

 

The trees cut off their view of the fireworks but there was black powder in the air, lanterns to lead them through the dark and such an atmosphere of happiness. They walked silently through the trees, neither really certain where they would end up. Eventually they walked through an alley way, all at once coming into a busy world of light again. The street was packed with people and carts selling food. They wandered for a long time, Doumeki stopping them whenever he saw something he didn’t recognize. Watanuki would explain it, most of the time grabbing one or two of whatever was for sale to sample as long as the line wasn’t too long. They ate enough that they essentially had a second dinner and were both comfortably full when they finally decided to turn back, retracing their steps.

 

“How are you liking Japan so far?” Watanuki asked.

 

“Better now that I have an actual translator.”

 

Watanuki winced. “Yeah, Fai’s always struggled with the language.”

 

“Is this the part where you tell me not to be so hard on him?”

 

He seemed honestly surprised by that. “Not at all. I mean, if I did I’d have to tell it to both of you anyway.”

 

“Really?” Something in Doumeki’s jaw relaxed a little.

 

“Fai doesn’t mean any harm but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t apologize if he get’s it wrong. Plus…” Watanuki seemed a little hesitant but went on anyway. “I know it’s weird with how accommodating Kurogane’s been through Fai’s detox. It makes him seem unstable or something, but it’s really not like that. He’s tough. He can take it.”

 

Doumeki just looked at him, unconvinced.

 

“No, really!” Watanuki was smiling now, yet somehow looking a little pained. “You haven't seen them fighting yet. It takes a lot for either of them to break.” He glanced back up at Doumeki. “Just don’t worry about calling them out on stuff, you know?”

 

Doumeki didn’t say anything but nodded. They walked another block before he spoke again.

 

“It’s been nice having you around.” It was a little out of nowhere and Doumeki wasn’t sure how to react. “I’m glad you came on tour.”

 

Watanuki glanced up, catching his eye. It was obvious he was going somewhere with this so Doumeki said nothing. Didn’t want to interrupt.

 

“I know the past few months haven’t been the easiest on you.” Watanuki was biting a lip, contrite, but staring resolutely ahead. “I know I… I move slowly.”

 

Doumeki bit his tongue. Glacially, more like.

 

“And I know that’s probably frustrating.”

 

So very, very frustrating.

 

“But I wanted you to know, I appreciate you not pressuring me into anything.”

 

Well, yeah, he wasn’t an asshole. He wasn’t about to-

 

A hand caught Doumeki’s and he realized he’d missed the turn back into the alley. Watanuki pulled him not only into the alley but up against the wall, tucked into a corner behind the facade, shielded from view. He barely had a chance to register what was going on before Watanuki was pressed in close, a hairs breadth away. It was a conscious fight to not let his hands settle on his waist.

 

“But then I thought,” Watanuki’s voice was low and breathy. Cold fingertips were sliding down the collar of his yukata, tracing feather light from the side of his neck and down his chest. “What about how Doumeki feels? Why not let you make a decision for once?”

 

The touch shot through his skin like electricity and he shivered for it. But Watanuki was relentless, crowding in even closer, nose nuzzling lightly along his ear as he murmured. “Why not let you take charge?” It wasn’t just the contact that had his hair standing on end and an undeniable heat stirring down to the base of his spine.

 

“So tonight I’ll trust you.” Watanuki’s hand slipped between the layers of fabric, running a few tantalizing inches across his chest. “Tonight you can have whatever you want.” Watanuki drew back from his ear, letting his nose drag across Doumeki’s cheek before hovering mere inches away, blue eyes again watching his mouth.

 

“Whatever I want?” Doumeki’s hands raised, slowly moving towards his hips.

 

Watanuki’s gaze shot up, meeting his eye. “Whatever you want for dessert.” He darted to the side and kissed Doumeki’s cheek.

 

It was a cheap move.

 

It was _his_ cheap move from mere hours before.

 

Doumeki’s hands fisted where they still hovered and he stood stock still.

 

“You bastard.” He was short of breath.

 

“And now we’re even.”

 

There was just enough light that when Watanuki pushed off the wall and turned down the alley he could see the smirk. The click of his sandals reverberated off the walls. It was only a few steps before Doumeki followed, falling into step with him easily.

 

“That wasn’t the same at all.” The protest was weak even to Doumeki’s own ears.

 

“Don’t fuck with me, Doumeki." Watanuki pulled out a cigarette and lighter from where he'd had them tucked into his sleeve. Doumeki's eyes hadn't adjusted yet and the red glow as Watanuki inhaled seemed unnaturally bright. "Or there will be consequences.” The tone was sharp, like it had been the night he’d driven him home. But different somehow. Like he was in on the joke this time or something.

 

They walked in silence back into the darkness of the trees. Watanuki smug, feeling like he’d won something important. Doumeki on the other hand was busy amending a few fantasies to include this new development. It really wasn’t the deterrent Watanuki seemed to think it was.

 

He was grateful for the darkness of their walk as he willed his body to calm back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does Watanuki come, Doumeki?
> 
> With consequences.
> 
> *badumtiss*
> 
> Heh heh..
> 
> heh…
> 
> *weeps over the canon*


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a little heavy. I don't think it's so bad, and the mentions are brief, but please check the end note for trigger warnings if you are at all concerned. The last thing I want is to cause someone distress. <3
> 
> If anyone wants to skip this chapter just shout up and I'll write a little summary with all the important information, no problem.

The stay in Japan was long. So many members were taking time off to visit family and friends, that it was really more vacation than work. Under the circumstances the label had rented out the top few floors of a new apartment building instead of a hotel. The view was amazing. Subaru had watched from where he sat in his deep window well as the fireworks explode against a back drop of the Tokyo Tower. The main show was over now, but there were plenty of individuals lighting their own on the streets wherever there was enough room. The booming explosions were smaller and almost constant now, but there wasn’t much to see anymore so he wandered away from the window.

 

It was nice to be in real housing again. Each floor had a sort of common room that probably would eventually be a lobby but for now was the de facto living room. The individual rooms were for the most part one bedroom apartments. It felt modest in some ways compared to the hotels they’d been staying at thus far, but there were some comforts that just couldn’t be replaced. Watanuki had a real kitchen. Kamui had a real balcony. Seishiro had a real office. This meant that at nine p.m. when Subaru knocked on his bedroom door, he was knocking on the _bedroom_ door. But just like always, Seishiro was there to meet him, lit cigarette in mouth and already in a jacket.

 

“Where are we going tonight?” He asked politely.

 

“Nowhere.” Subaru said, pushing him inside and closing the door behind him. “We’re staying in.” It was short work to push the coat off his shoulders and neither of them moved to pick it up. Subaru looked up into his eyes, breathing shallowly and waiting for a sign of protest.

 

It didn’t come.

 

Slowly, holding that eye contact, he began to move back towards the bed and though Subaru did not lay a hand on him, Seishiro felt pulled along all the same. It was only a few steps before the foot of the bed hit the back of Subaru’s knees and he carefully crawled backward until his shoulders hit the headboard. Seishiro didn’t move from where he stood at the foot of the bed. Still they did not look away.

 

“Come on,” Subaru said quietly, working up a little courage. “I’m not made of glass.”

 

Seishiro took the cigarette in his left hand and let his right slip under the fabric at Subaru’s left ankle. Subaru’s eyes widened as his hand closed firmly around the joint, then after a moment receded into a loose grip with his thumb tracing soothingly along his ankle bone. Subaru held his gaze, confused, but Seishiro was unreadable.

 

“That doesn’t mean I can’t break you.”

 

Subaru gasped sharply. And as much at it made him feel weak, feel helpless, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

 

“Well,” He was breathless, his voice small. “As long as we understand each other.”

 

Seishiro withdrew his hand and took a drag on the cigarette. He laughed darkly. A single huff under his breath.

 

Still Subaru did not think of running.

 

Finally he hitched a knee onto the bed, then the other, crawling up until he was straddled across Subaru’s thighs. When he broke eye contact it was to drag his gaze down the body lying below him. Subaru closed his eyes in momentary relief, drawing a few steadying breaths before the hiss of fabric tore them open again. Above him Seishiro had untied the knot in his tie and was slipping it free from his collar. He folded it once then dropped it to the side of the bed. “I was starting to wonder,” He murmured, laying a large hand spread across Subaru’s narrow chest, watching, enjoying the image. “If you’d ever cross this line.” He drew it down to his hips, feeling the drag of the wool of the sweater and under that the give of flesh. “And here you are, so much sooner than I’d imagined.” Those long fingers slipped under the fabric of his shirt and sweater, spreading cool and firm over his skin and-

 

“Wait!” Subaru called out.

 

Seishiro froze, blinking up at the musician. Subaru just scrambled back, sitting against the headboard with his legs crossed protectively before him.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Subaru pulled back nervously, working himself up to something. “It’s fine. I just- I need to- You should know…” With a grimace he hurriedly pulled his sweater and undershirt off over his head, but stalled with the fabric still tangled around his arms. Suddenly it occurred to Seishiro that he’d never seen Subaru in anything but a turtleneck. Kamui usually showed enough skin to keep everyone distracted. With a deep breath and staring hard at nothing on the denim of his knee, Subaru slowly pulled out an arm and laid it bare for Seishiro to see.

 

There were thin lines running parallel from the inside of his wrist wrist all the way to upper arm and few small circular burn scars dotted randomly. The marks were small but raised, all of them white with age. Subaru waited. This was the part where people either panicked…

 

His eyes glanced up and Seishiro was looking down at him with an intensity he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t lust. It was more like, calculation?

 

…or when they didn’t.

 

Seishiro hesitantly brought up a hand and waited for Subaru’s minute nod before running his fingertips along the ribbed flesh. “You used to smoke?”

 

In a way he was grateful. Seishiro hadn't bothered with all the obvious questions, but in doing so had skipped straight to the one that was hardest to answer. Subaru’s gaze flicked up and caught his eye. “No.”

 

It took a second for that to sink in.

 

He’d never seen Seishiro upset or angry before, but for a moment there was something there that scared him.

 

He carefully set his glasses aside then slowly sat back, straddled over Subaru’s smaller hips. He pulled away the tangle of sweater and shirt and Subaru let him, leaving him bare-chested and armorless against his blankets. It was a good look, Seishiro thought. “Subaru, do you like me?”

 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He said, a little affronted that Seishiro had waited until this late stage to start asking uncomfortable questions.

 

He took a drag before turning to blow it out over a shoulder. “Doesn’t it bother you?” He indicated the butt in his hand, taking one last drag before stretching out to leave it in the ashtray on the bedside table.

 

He moved to lean back but Subaru’s hand caught the front of his shirt, holding him down. Subaru’s delicate nose dragged lightly up his neck as he breathed in the scent. Smoke and warmth and something animal. His heart was pounding.

 

“It’s familiar.” He murmured against his skin. It was almost an answer.

 

Seishiro tipped his chin down to find Subaru staring up at him. Nervous. Raw. He smirked and wrapped his hand around that neck, tilting Subaru’s chin up and into position. He opened his mouth, breathing out that last lungful of of nicotine and poison. Subaru opened his own, eyes half-lidded as he obediently breathed in. He’d done this before. Seishiro pulled back in time to see Subaru’s eyes slide closed as he breathed out the smoke through his nose.

 

How long had it been since his lungs had felt that burn?

 

Subaru’s eyes blinked back open and when Seishiro caught his gaze he could tell there was no going back. Those green eyes…

 

Trusting was the wrong word…

 

Defenseless?

 

Instinct told him to pounce.

 

He caught Subaru’s mouth with his own and bore him down back into the pillows. The musician gasped but soon let his eyes fall shut. He didn’t take, and he didn’t ask, but his hunger for contact was clear enough. In the way his hands fell submissively against the pillows, palms up and fingers spread, waiting to be laced together with another’s. In the way his chest arched up, lightly but steadily against Seishiro’s weight. In the way those tiny noises at the back of his throat praised without demanding, but begged all the same.

 

But Seishiro wasn’t here to fill the negative space some ex-lover had left on Subaru.

 

He ran his hands down those arms, fingertips covering every scar, before closing tight around slender wrists. Under him, Subaru’s eye’s were wide. He brought the musician’s hands to his collar until he got the message. Those fingers, usually so dexterous, fumbled as Subaru tried and failed to get the buttons of Seishiro’s shirt undone. If Seishiro noticed his struggle, he did not take pity, his own hands busy running firm and heavy, mapping Subaru’s newly exposed skin. Subaru keened, begging with a whine because Seishiro wasn’t leaving his mouth alone long enough for him to get a word out.

 

He tore away eventually, all the way off his bed, staring Subaru down as he panted against the pillows. Without a word Seishiro was unbuttoning his clothing, not hurried, but terribly efficient. He shed shirt, undershirt and pants before climbing back onto the bed.

 

It was unfair but the fact that Subaru now had more clothes on than Seishiro didn’t make an ounce of difference to how exposed he still felt.

 

Seishiro held out a hand and for a moment. Subaru just looked at it, confused, but then gave one of his own. Seishiro pulled him up onto his knees and crawled back on the bed to meet him. If they were going to do this he wasn’t about to let Subaru play the part of some passive blushing flower against the headboard. He placed Subaru’s hands flat against his own sternum then let his hands trace down over his arms, over his shoulders until one hand ran down to the small of his back and the other to the back of his head, guiding him back into a deep kiss.

 

Subaru fell into it eagerly and slowly but surely his hands began to move, tracing across the musculature of his chest, letting a hand run shyly up his neck, hesitantly letting his fingertips quest lower, over his obliques, finding out what it felt like to hold that waist.

 

Subaru didn’t know his body. Didn’t know where to touch or what to do, but his tongue was stroking against his own, inviting him deeper and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped as he did just that. He shifted the hand on Subaru’s waist, dragging it lower, hand spread wide against the denim covering his backside. To the sound of Subaru’s moans, he kneaded the flesh there, one, twice, before pulling his hips forward, slipping his own thigh firmly between Subaru’s. The fingers around his waist clenched, and with an appreciative whine, Subaru’s hips were rolling against him.

 

Seishiro pulled his mouth away and Subaru tucked comfortably against his chest, mindlessly kissing and groaning against his collarbone. The image was…

 

He couldn’t move for a long minute. Didn’t even want to. But the heat of his own arousal was becoming unbearable.

 

The denim across Subaru’s thigh was rough, but the strange give and tension of the material as Subaru moved was delicious as Seishiro added his own roll to their movement, grinding hard against him. For long minutes this was all he wanted, Subaru moaning against his chest and letting the anticipation build.

 

Eventually it was Subaru that reached for more, his fingertips carefully playing at the waistband of his briefs. Seishiro responded in kind, slipping a hand between the fabric of Subaru’s jeans and his own thigh.

 

He paused.

 

He could feel Subaru, but he wasn’t hard.

 

If he’d been playing a part… If he’d been faking it… Then it wasn’t something Seishiro wanted.

 

“Subaru?”

 

He was resting his forehead against his chest, hidden from sight. “I’m sorry.”

 

Sorry?

 

Subaru rolled his head miserably to the side, looking across his chest but not meeting his eye. “It’s not you, honest.” He brought up a hand to rest on Seishiro’s stomach. The gesture was probably more comfort to himself than anything else. “I- I take a lot of SSRIs. This sort of thing happens.” He winced, finally glancing up. “Often.”

 

Oh.

 

Seishiro pulled his hand away, instead wrapping it around Subaru in a tight hug and bending down to kiss his forehead. As he released him the other hand moved to run through his hair. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.” They took a few quiet breaths like that, Seishiro’s arms tight around him, hoping to convey what the words apparently weren’t. “Should I stop?”

 

“No!” It was the most assertive thing Subaru had done all night and it surprised them both. He immediately tried to play it down, dropping his gaze and curling in on himself a little. “I mean… unless you’d rather not. It’s still nice, even if I can’t…” He didn’t make it to the end of that sentence, trailing off and glancing up with a wince.

 

Seishiro shifted him, pulling him higher against his body until he could kiss a soft line up Subaru’s neck, could bury a nose behind his ear. He still smelled like shampoo.

 

“Seishiro?”

 

The man sighed against his neck and the air from his nose played over his shoulder warmly.

 

“So what do you want?” He asked.

 

Slowly, Subaru pulled away, settling back against the pillows and headboard, guiding Seishiro back into kneeling across his hips.

 

It still irked him on some level, but what was the harm in a little compromise?

 

Subaru’s hands ran down the back of his waist, across his hips and caught the waistband, finally slipping the fabric down his thighs, finally freeing him. Subaru was moving under him nervously, like he was still testing how far he could go. He reached out a little, looking like he might take Seishiro in his hand, but after a moment’s indecision, took his forearm guiding his own hand there instead.

 

“Is that…?"

 

“Sure.”

 

Subaru’s hand fell away as he started stroking himself, arousal just as urgent for all that they’d had to stop. He worked quickly, having had more than enough buildup and restraint for one night. Subaru’s fingers ghosted along his skin, over his shoulders, across his chest, pulling him down to kiss along his jaw, all the while goading him on with soft little noises of pleasure.

 

He felt himself being pulled toward the edge. “Subaru,” He was breathing hard. “I’m close.”

 

“I know.”

 

“But-”

 

“Do it.”

 

He groaned quietly as he surrendered to it.

 

Underneath him Subaru gasped as the release hit him hot across the stomach. It was a gorgeous sound and he leaned down, kissing him on the forehead before carefully collapsing to the side. He reached out to wrap an arm around his shoulders but the bed was already empty.

 

He took a steadying breath, willing himself into a little more coherency. The bathroom light was on and the water was running. He hadn’t run strait out the apartment. Things probably weren’t _too_ bad. He settled back into the warm afterglow.

 

It was minutes later that Subaru returned, stomach clean, standing nervously at the side of the bed. Waiting for an invitation.

 

But...

 

It was late.

 

If Subaru spent the night, what were the chances no one would notice?

 

He could get reassigned.

 

He could get fired.

 

Subaru picked up the pack of cigarettes and lighter from his beside table, shaking one out with a practiced ease. He lit it, breathing in just the first drag to get it going before holding it out silently in offering.

 

Seishiro considered it for a long moment before taking it, holding it in his mouth as he pulled back the covers, slipping beneath them and holding them open for Subaru.

 

The musician breathed a sigh of relief before turning to shed his denim and settle against his side.            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for past self harm, a past abusive relationship and scarring left from both of these. 
> 
> I feel like I should be warning for Seishiro too but I can't put my finger on what I'd be warning for. I guess the guy just creeps me out. 
> 
> TW: Seishiro?


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how the rest of you took the last chapter but I sure needed some authorial aftercare, so enjoy the fluff. *u*
> 
> Things might slow down a little bit for a while. I've got some extra IRL commitments this week and the next chunk of story is going to get a little complicated. (read: shit 's about to go dooooown)

The first thing that faded into Fai’s awareness was the air: crisp, fresh and that soothing ocean humidity. Next came the chill.  
  
But the covers and the arms around his waist were nice and toasty.

 

He tucked his head down, pulling the edge of the blankets over his chilly nose. Behind him Kurogane’s breathing shifted into something deeper, they way it always did as he was starting to wake up. Fai yawned and the stretch in his back felt so good it grew into a whole body thing, extending first one side from toes to shoulder, then the other before relaxing. He rolled further into the warmth and Kurogane shifted with him, turning onto his back as Fai settled across his chest.

 

Red eyes blinked into the early morning light a few times and he brought a hand up to run along Fai’s scalp.

 

His first attempt at speech was cut off by a yawn but he managed on the second try.

 

“You feel ok?”

 

“Mmm.” It was a content sound. An affirmative.

 

“How’s your leg?”

 

“Mmm.” This one was less so.

 

He had expected as much between the plane ride and all the driving they’d done the day before. “We should hit the gym.”

 

“Mmm!” This one sounded a little petulant.

 

Kurogane rolled his shoulders. “You’ll feel better.”

 

“Not the gym.” Between grogginess and speaking more or less strait into Kurogane’s sternum, Fai’s voice was pretty muffled.

 

Kurogane brought his hands up, pressing against his brow for a moment before letting them fall to the sides. He was a morning person, but it was still too early for this. “Why not the gym?”

 

“Because too many people hit on my Kuropoo.” Fai raised a single thin finger to poke into his pectoral muscle as if to say ‘This one. This Kuropoo here. Mine.’

 

“That’s ridiculous.” It was lazy and he had no energy to really argue, but he couldn’t just let that stand unrefuted. On principal. Or something.

 

In any case, Fai ignored it.

 

“Then we should go jogging.”

 

Fai shook his head a little against his chest. “Too cold.”

 

“It’s not that cold. You’re just naked.”

 

Fai took a deep breath before pushing against Kurogane to sit up. “Then you won’t mind if I take these while I go close the window?” He gathered the blankets around his shoulders, pulling them tight like a robe. As they left Kurogane’s skin, the air hit him like a shock. He was quick to catch the material and pull the blonde back down against him.

 

Fai was ruffled from the fall, but he smirked, vindicated. “See! It _is_ cold.” It was short work to get the blankets settled back around them but in the process Fai discovered the morning wood Kurogane had been ignoring. With only a mischievous grin as warning, he disappeared under the blanket and between his legs.

 

It was lazy and slow and when he came, it was with little more than a satisfied groan. He was almost falling back asleep from it when Fai nuzzled his way back up his chest, and he could tell from the hardness against his thigh that he had some reciprocating to do.

 

He sat up, pushing the covers and Fai back with a hand to his chest. As much as the chill had been a problem mere minutes before, they were both feeling a little too warm now. Fai fell back, sprawled sideways across the bed, stretching out luxuriantly as Kurogane stroked along his hips and thighs.

 

Not for the first time, he was struck by just how feline Fai could get. Not that he minded in instances like this. If the blonde was feeling this indulgent first thing in the morning, chances were good it would be an easy, laid back sort of day. Kurogane worked steadily, only really waking up when he needed to keep Fai’s hip pinned to the bed, protecting the injury that Fai was apparently too far gone to care about. Or too lazy.

 

Fai’s praise was maybe a little more incoherent than normal but as always he was so vocal, eager to express his thanks for every little twist and touch that Kurogane gave him. That and he liked the sound of his own voice, but Kurogane would take it just the same. Oral sex with Fai almost never felt like a chore. By the time they were done he was always too distracted by pride to really care about anything else.

 

Maybe that was just another type of vanity, but as he looked down at Fai stretched across his bed and sighing through the aftershocks, he figured it was one he could probably afford.

 

He waited, watching, but when it was clear Fai was not about to fight inertia, he pulled away from the bed to dig through their luggage. On his way back he dropped Fai’s jogging clothes in a pile next to him befoe he continued on to the bathroom.

 

It was a testament to how good he was feeling that instead of complaining, Fai just slipped on his clothes, docile as anything, and joined him.

 

It wasn’t until Kurogane checked his phone, about to look up a good place to run, that he noticed the time. It was barely five o’clock. Apparently they hadn’t out maneuvered jet lag by staying up yesterday. Just as well. At least there wouldn’t be much traffic.

 

They didn’t escape the hotel without a few odd looks. Fai had commissioned coordinating active wear, his own in blue and white and Kurogane’s in the marginally less cringe-worthy red and black. It was the sort of thing he usually drew the line at, but he could put up with a lot from Fai right now if it meant keeping him healthy and happy through one last detox without getting his head bitten off.

 

The streets however were deserted and they explored in peace, starting out along the river but veering off into a park. It turned out they’d gotten lucky and the place was beautiful. There were carefully kept flowerbeds, a stream weaving in and around different features and even a small shrine. It was too early to be open but they could appreciate the artistry of its architecture and design easily enough from the outside.

 

They’d been running for the better part of an hour, the companionable silence only broken when one stopped the other to point out some feature or place of interest, when they finally found a bench overlooking a pond to take a break at. There was a  flock of ducks bobbing by, making noise and finding breakfast, but they were so intricately patterned it felt wrong to use the same name as the birds they knew back home.

 

Fai’s hair was just long enough and he gathered it into a high ponytail, letting the breeze get to the back of his neck as he caught his breath. When he glanced over, Kurogane was barely winded. “You’re making me look bad, Kurgs.”

 

Kurogane looked over to him with something between a smirk and a smile. “You don’t.” Fai just tilted his head, not understanding. “You don’t look bad.” He clarified, looking away and reaching out a hand to mess up his hair a little.

 

Fai protested, batting him away but smiling.

 

Kurogane relented, settling back onto his side of the bench but not quite managing to get the fond expression off his face.

 

“Mom called yesterday when you were out.”

 

“Oh?” Between the shrine and the garden they had just run through, it was easy to see how Kurogane would be reminded of his parents and their house in the forest. “Are we still on to visit?” They tried to do so at least once a year if not more, but this time would be more complicated. There were more distant relatives coming and talk of a ‘family dinner’.

 

“No, that’s all fine. She wanted to know if we had Christmas plans.”

 

“Christmas?”

 

“I think she’s hoping we’ll invite her to New York.”

 

“Oh.” Fai had come to look forward to Christmas in Japan. Yeah, there were still decorations and presents, but it wasn’t anywhere near as big of a deal here. Most people didn’t even take off work. The prospect of showing Kurogane’s parents a ‘real’ American Christmas felt hollow, especially given that his own experience with the season had been more Oliver Twist than Bing Crosby.

 

But then again, it wouldn’t be all bad. There would be skating at Rockefeller and the department store windows to go see. With enough luck they could stay so busy that no one would be tempted to get too maudlin.

 

“Sure.” He said, after a pause that had probably been too long.

 

“Really?” Kurogane seemed surprised. “There’s still time. You don’t have to decide right now.”

 

But Fai just shrugged. “Why not?”

 

His own anxiety was quick to offer a few reasons.

 

He’d be cooking for Kurogane’s father. His mother would be in their apartment. He could start cleaning now and he still wasn’t sure he’d be done in time. They’d have to put up a tree probably, and he’d have to look at it every single day. ‘Christmas carols’, he thought with a growing dread. What if they wanted to play Christmas carols in his house? Fuck! What if they wanted him to _sing_ them!?

 

Maybe if he took them to see the Rockettes they’d never ask him to host again. Or Time Square at rush hour. Or-!  
  
“Maybe they could stay for New Years and we could go down to watch the ball drop?”

 

Kurogane just looked over at him, clearly a little horrified at the prospect.

 

Yes, perfect.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Or maybe chapters won't slow down. Apparently I'm too addicted to this thing to not just work on it anyway. *u*'

When Subaru woke up he eased out of bed, quietly as he could before moving around to gather pants and shirts. His phone was back in his room, so he’d missed an alarm, already putting him a few hours behind on meds.

 

Of course Seishiro had woken up, (How could head of security afford to be a deep sleeper?) but this wasn’t his first morning after. If Subaru wanted to escape while he was still ‘sleeping’, he was going to give him that chance. But from the sizzle of grease and the small clanks of cutlery soon coming from the kitchen, Subaru wasn’t going anywhere. He lit himself a cigarette and climbed out of bed. Pulling on a robe, he wondered what Subaru could possibly be cooking. He hadn’t gone shopping yet and the cupboards were only minimally stocked.

 

When he came out it was to find Subaru dressed but disheveled, cooking eggs over the stove.

 

Subaru glanced back at him nervously, but his easy gate and calm expression was enough to put him at relative ease.

 

“You made breakfast?” Seishiro asked.

 

“I wasn’t sure how you liked eggs, but they’ve ended up scrambled anyway, so…” He trailed off as Seishiro came up behind him, wrapping those arms around his waist and burying his nose in the crook of his neck. The contact spread a warmth in his chest altogether different than what he’d felt the night before. He relaxed into the embrace as Seishiro kissed up his neck and shifted, sighing and tilting his head, giving him as much room as he wanted. He proceeded slowly until he was nuzzling behind Subaru’s ear, taking another deep breath there, collecting all the little scents that defined him.

 

“Scrambled is fine.”

 

Subaru turned to initiate a kiss but Seishiro was gone, walking back to the table. “There’s toast too.” He said a little weakly, waving vaguely at the oven. He hadn’t found a toaster.

 

He put together a plate for Seishiro but hadn’t even started on his own before there was a knock on the door. Fuuma’s knock. He always put that extra little syncopation on the end.

 

With a sudden sense of dread, he hurried to the door, checking the peephole. Kamui was with him. They looked tense. His stomach sank and twisted. Those two were never up this early.

 

“It’s Kamui and Fuuma.” Subaru whispered urgently under his breath.

 

“Oh?” Seishiro joined him at the door, quiet but way too cavalier.

 

“What do we do?” He could hide. He could make up an innocent reason why he would be eating breakfast in Seishiro’s room in yesterday’s clothes and….  
  
No he couldn’t.

 

He could hide.

 

“We could just tell them.” Seishiro said mildly, looking through the peep hole for himself. He’d been joking but as he pulled away, smiling to himself, he caught how panicked Subaru looked. He paused, frowning and raised an eyebrow. “My mistake. I didn’t realize how distasteful you found the idea.”

 

Subaru’s face twisted into something else, something a touch indignant, but before he had a chance to go into whatever retort he had, Seishiro opened the door, essentially pinning the smaller man into the two square feet between the door and the corner of the room, forcing him to choose between staying silent or being discovered.

 

With a rolling sense of doom Subaru suddenly realized how little he knew Seishiro. All those nights of near silence, all that time together and he’d gotten so comfortable. Felt so safe. But really, he didn’t know the first thing about him. Didn’t know what might set him off.

 

“Seishiro!” Kamui said tightly, “Have you seen Subaru?”

 

He didn’t move, keeping their conversation at the doorway. “Subaru?” Yes, he could still see him now across the tiny barrier of about an inch of wood. “No. Why?” Apparently Seishiro had a poker face of steel. Subaru tucked away this information uneasily.

 

“He isn’t answering his door or his phone.” Kamui was worried. Had reason to be worried. Behind the door Subaru grimaced, hating to do this to his friend.

 

“Maybe he went out.”

 

“All night?”

 

“Maybe he met someone.”

 

Kamui stumbled over his words a few times, trying to explain how unlikely that would be but giving up and just coming back to the salient point. “We still need to find him.”

 

“Well, if you can just excuse me for a moment, we can check the logs in my office.”

 

Kamui and Fuuma must have nodded because there wasn’t another word before the door closed and Seishiro moved to his bedroom. Subaru was dying to talk back to the man, but now, given the chance, he was just mute, everything coming at once and he needed time to sort it out.

 

Seishiro didn’t give it to him. “If you take the stairs down four flights you’ll bypass everyone in our group. From there you can ride the elevator down to the second floor. There’s a back door behind the office. It’s a weekend, so it will be empty and you can just climb over the counter. Then you can enter again from the front door.” He had finished dressing quickly, and was currently working on his tie.

 

“But everyone will think I've been out on a one night stand!”

 

Seishiro caught his eye. “At least they won’t think it was with me.” It wasn't without spite. Then Seishiro was gone, taking his band mates to the office down the hall.

 

Subaru felt sick. He felt…

 

Was that what that had been for Seishiro?

 

A one night stand?

 

He stood there, paralyzed in shock. It… The whole thing, it had been a bad idea. Stupid.

 

But he’d been so kind right up until…

 

Oh. Until he’d suggesting telling people.

 

It was an old problem. Much older than Seishiro. No one wanted to feel like a secret but couldn’t they just understand the pressure of rumor and tabloid?

 

The pressure of the protective glares Kamui and Fuuma had for anyone getting too close to him.

 

He’d had his reasons. He wanted simple. He wanted private. If only Seishiro had given him a chance to explain before he answered that door.

 

But… those were selfish reasons, weren’t they?

 

He was hyperventilating. He could feel it. And the longer he stood here, the worse his chances were to get out undetected.

 

He slipped carefully from apartment door to staircase, everyone else safely behind a bend in the hallway. He had 25 floors to second guess his own motivations and try to figure out where he’d gone wrong.


	31. Chapter 31

Subaru was lucky enough to make it outside without being spotted but against all probability Fai and Kurogane were in the lobby when he walked back in the building. They paused, giving him a surprised look, but they seemed busy with their own tense discussion.

 

He tried to make it to the elevator alone, but Fai used his presence as an excuse to move on and they rode up those twenty five flights together, Fai chattering away lightly, but the other two seemed too lost in their own thoughts to really pay attention. There hadn’t been anything like enough time for Subaru to make a plan, but at the least he clamped down on the panic, keeping his face blank with an ease born of practice. If he could just make it to his room, he could find his phone, take his meds. As long as no one saw his day-old clothes he could claim he’d been out to watch the sunrise or walk around the new city. It wasn’t something he characteristically did, but it was just this side of believable.

 

But when the doors opened, the entire group was gathered in the floor’s common room area. It was a worst case scenario so terrible, he hadn’t even considered it. Only following the impetus of Fai and Kurogane walking past him brought him out of the elevator before the doors shut again.

 

“Subaru!” It was Kamui, obviously relieved to see him. “Are you alright?”

 

“Of course, but,” He needed to deflect. “What are all of you doing up? What is it, nine?”

 

It was Watanuki who answered. “There’s been a leak. Yuuko called an emergency meeting to see what we’re dealing with.” He was dressed in his normal professional clothing, but with hair that looked a little worse for wear. He was typing at his laptop, kneeling beside Yuuko who herself had a phone in hand. She looked completely disheveled in a way it usually took a team of stylists to create. A floral patterned silk robe was tied around her waist but it had fallen off one shoulder, exposing a plum-purple strap at her shoulder and an expanse of pale skin. Her long hair was twisted into a bun kept in place by a few pins and wishful thinking. The twins were hovering at the edge of the room, still in their pajamas and Mokona wasn’t there at all. Doumeki had managed black jeans and a light jacket where he was fuming in the corner.

 

“A leak?” Fai asked over Subaru’s shoulder. He looked worried. “Not the EP?”

 

“No.” Watanuki clarified. “It’s uh...” He winced. “From the sound of things on the forums, it sounds like someone’s been outed.” Around the circle everyone sat up a little straighter. “The accounts are too contradictory but there are supposedly photos. I just… almost loaded… Here!” Watanuki turned his laptop around.

 

On his screen was the same picture the phone sitting in Subaru’s room currently had as a background. Two men sitting on a fire escape. He should have expected it really. Should have already come up with what he would do when this moment came. It wasn’t fair. This photo wouldn’t even feel incriminating if not for the fact that it meant too much to him. It would be enough if rumor was stirred up and how long could he keep up the act of denying it?

 

Except…

 

Was there really anything to be denying at this point?

 

He very carefully didn’t look in Seishiro’s direction, and if he was lucky, the man in question was doing the same.

 

“Is that it?” Kurogane asked.

 

“No… it’s part of a set.” Watanuki closed the photo and started opening the next one.

 

“Well, depending on how the fans react it could be the one everyone was talking about.” Kamui was eyeing him from where he was sat on the couch. Then he glanced back at Seishiro. “But, I mean… You’re not. Right?” Subaru couldn’t breathe.

 

“Of course not.” Seishiro said flatly from where he stood by his office door. The way he said it, it sounded true. Like the very idea was laughable.

 

Kamui’s eyes shifted back to Subaru for confirmation. “Are you kidding?” He tried to laugh it off but there was a strain there. Kamui had caught it, but his attention was quickly pulled away.

 

“That’s mine!” Kazahaya had finally rounded the table, impatient to see what everyone was reacting to. His jaw dropped and he looked furious.

 

“What do you mean it’s yours?” Doumeki asked sharply.

 

“I took them! No one else should have access to these pictures besides me and Rikuo!”

 

Watanuki had opened the second picture now. Everyone around the table relaxed a little. Everyone except for Kamui and Fuuma. This had to be it.

 

It was from the show in San Francisco, when the tour was still new and so overwhelming. The photo had been taken from the opposite wing with the girls and Mokona acting as a frame in the foreground. But there, tucked behind the curtain of the wing were Fuuma and Kamui, undeniably the focus of the shot. They were bathed in warm light from the stage, smiling at each other. Fuuma had both his arms wrapped around Kamui, one with a thumb hooked into a belt loop at his hip and the other blocked but too low to be on his back. Kamui had a hand braced against his chest as he tipped his chin up close to Fuuma. The look that was passing between them… There was a tenderness there that was so far removed from their onstage personas. It was adoring. It was excited. It was blissful. It was… It was more than enough to put the final nail in the coffin that was their supposedly platonic friendship.

 

It was funny and Kamui couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.

 

After everything they’d done, all the risky places they’d been together, all the video shoots and album covers that had been one or two articles of clothing away from softcore porn, it was this photo that would finally out them. They weren’t even kissing.

 

He was vaguely aware of the eyes around the circle on him, but this was a moment between himself and Fuuma, and he knew where his attention needed to be.

 

Beside him, Fuuma shifted, drawing Kamui to sit on his lap as he hugged him from behind. Kamui let the arms wrap around his waist and Fumma leaned in to rest his chin on his shoulder. “We should frame that.” Fuuma murmured. “You look amazing.”

 

Kamui let his hand pat Fuuma’s where they were holding his stomach. “ _You_ look amazing.” He’d known Fuuma wouldn’t have a problem when this finally happened, of course they had talked about it, but it was a relief to have it over with anyway. He didn’t say anything but turned to rest his temple against the other man. The way his body relaxed in his arms spoke volumes anyway.

 

But Subaru’s voice sounded over his shoulder, far less at peace. “Why would you even take a picture that could out them, Kazahaya?”

 

“Out them? But they’re not…”

 

On the couch for all to see, Fuuma turned Kamui’s chin and they fell into an easy kiss, adding plenty of tongue for emphasis. But almost no one bothered watching them, far more interested to see how the photographer would take it. Eventually they pulled away from each other, a little dazed, like they’d forgotten they’d started for the sake of proving a point, but turned in time to see the final puzzle pieces falling into place on Kazahaya’s shocked face.

 

“But… but this whole time you’ve never done anything-”

 

Kamui stopped him with a gesture and a frown, the frustration of weeks of teasing him to no avail finally coming through. “What the hell kind of friendships do you have that you think the shit we do it platonic!?”

 

Kazahaya took a quick breath to defend his own honor, then he froze, turning pale and looking increasingly panicked, apparently not taking a second, more personal revelation of the morning very gracefully.

 

The mood had almost recovered. Laughing over Kazahaya’s naivete was familiar territory for the whole group. Hesitantly Watanuki started flipping though the next few pictures. They were all less intimate and still beautifully shot.

 

But then Doumeki couldn’t take silence anymore.

 

“Is that it? You’re all just going to laugh this off?” He wasn’t satisfied with the resolution at all. “This is what happens when you invite a tabloid to tour with you. You think any of your secrets are safe?” None of the musicians seemed to be coming to his support. “Ok, fine. Maybe you’re ok with it now, but what about next time?”

 

“I would never-!” Kazahaya began, but the fierceness in Doumeki’s eye bullied him back into silence.

 

“Photos don’t just leak, Kazahaya. They _are_ leaked by _someone_.” The room was silent as he paused. “Maybe it was you. Maybe it was your team, but it all amounts to the same thing. We can’t trust you.”

 

Down at the table, Watanuki was still flipping through pictures. The next one he pulled up was Fai sitting on the edge of the Portland stage during a sound check. Kurogane was standing on the floor below, bracketed between Fai’s knees, hands on his legs as Fai toyed with the scarf he had around his neck. They looked happy.

 

“You took pictures of Fai?” Kurogane asked. It happened occasionally. He’d be on the edges of some shot as he and Yuuko went from club to club together on their nights out, but he was never the center of attention like this. And he was never with Kurogane. It was practically begging for someone to get curious and figure out who they were.

 

“Was I not supposed to? I know you’re not in the band but… I mean, you’re always around…”

 

Fai was looking more and more uncomfortable, but it still didn’t shift the serene smile he was forcing. “That’s alright. I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

Doumeki had finally had enough. He pushed off the wall and stalked through the group, down the hall to his room. If they wanted to so willingly accept an obvious saboteur, he wasn't going to stick around and be forced to witness it.

 

He wasn’t entirely surprised when the door opened only a handful of moments behind him. “Come to give me another lecture?” He asked, tired. Tired and frustrated.

 

“Something like that.” But it wasn’t Watanuki’s voice.

 

He turned and Yuuko was closing the door behind her. They’d never been alone together before. All he could do was stare but she moved to settle on the couch as if she owned it. She sort of did. Yuuko was paying his rent in a sense.

 

She spotted the cigarettes and lighter Watanuki had left on his end table. “Do you mind?” 

 

He shook his head and she lit the cigarette. It was a familiar gesture. They all were. How she held the lighter and tipped her head. How her brow was tight in annoyance. How she crossed her legs on the cushions, taking up his whole couch. They were all gestures he was used to seeing, just not on her.

 

It was almost eerie how similarly to Watanuki she moved. Or maybe he had it the wrong way round. How had he never noticed before?

 

“Doumeki, why do you think I’m a Rock Star?”

 

It was a trap. It had to be a trap.

 

“For the music.”

 

She frowned.

 

“No, that’s why I’m a musician. Why am I a Rock Star?”

 

It was rude but… Well, she was asking, right?

 

“For the money.”

 

She smiled this time, leering and pointing a playful finger at him. “Getting closer! But still wrong.”

 

He just shook his head. “I give up.” She was toying with him, spouting nonsense riddles and he didn’t appreciate it. “Why?”

 

“For the fans.” She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was a cliché, but the way she said it… It was warm, like she believed it. “They have wants. They have desires. They need a story, and I give it to them.” She took a drag and shifted, laying back on the armrest and watching the smoke as her robe fell away from a bare leg. “That’s all I am to them really. All any of us are. We’re not people. We’re vicarious excitement. We’re possibility. We’re ideas. Idols. Stories.”

 

Doumeki’s voice didn’t give an inch. “What are you trying to say, Yuuko?”

 

“Kazahaya didn’t leak the photos, Doumeki. I did.”

 

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. He’d never trusted her, but he trusted Watanuki and that had seemed like the same thing until this moment.

 

“How?”

 

“Oh please.” She rolled her eyes. “The kid leaves his laptop logged in all the time. I messed with his phone too, but he has yet to notice.”

 

“He didn’t know better.”

 

“But he should have. And now he’s learned an important lesson.” She smiled. “And since when do _you_ stick up for him?”

 

Doumeki, for all his sense of fair play, was journalism trained in subtle interrogation. He wasn’t about to let her make this about him. “Fuuma and Kamui-”

 

Yuuko cut him off. “Are in a very delicate point in their careers, and about to get more publicity than they could ever dream of.”

 

“It wasn’t your story to tell.”

 

She seemed to consider it. To consider him. “They told me they wanted success. I’m just giving it too them. You’re in more denial than most if you think that happens without _someone_ getting their hands dirty.” She narrowed her eyes before her lips broadened into a grin. “And I think it’s about time you took a turn.”

 

“What!?” It wasn't a request for details, but a disbelief that she would be so presumptuous.

 

“We're turning Kazahaya’s photos into a book. An autobiographical account of the tour. I want you to write it.”

 

"We?"

 

"Channel Green. We have an arrangement."

 

Working with a tabloid photographer?

 

 _Publishing_ under a tabloid brand?

 

“No! I’m not going to take advantage of people like that.”

 

“‘Take advantage’? Doumeki, everyone benefits. The boys get their promotion. The fans get their intrigue. You get your royalties.”

 

But it was rumor. It was people’s private lives. It was exploitation. “It’s gossip.”

 

She didn’t rise to match his quiet intensity, playing it mellow instead. “It’s stories.” She had the gall to look amused. “You’re the writer, so write us.”

 

Doumeki didn't answer her beyond the way he was avoiding her gaze.

 

She sat up a bit straighter, gathering her robe around her. “The book is going out whether you take it or not.” She left her cigarette in the ashtray and stood up. “And just think; if you don’t, who will? Given the choice, I’d take someone with moral scruples like you but…” The sentiment ended in a shrug. Then she moved toward the door, patting his shoulder as she passed. His skin crawled a little under the touch.

 

“Just let me know if you feel like adding ‘best selling author’ to your resume.” Her hand slipped off his shoulder and she smiled. “Or your bank account.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe someday I will be the type of competent writer that can do scenes with more than two people without breaking my brain.


	32. Chapter 32

When Yuuko left there was an unspoken understanding that the meeting was over. Seishiro had retreated first, back into his office, then Subaru into his own room, followed less than willingly by his band mates.

 

The twins had commandeered Watanuki’s laptop, and gently pulled Kazahaya aside to take them through the shots. He was obviously proud of them, circumstance aside and he seemed to recover little by little, getting to talk about them. Fai was quick to join them, eager to do anything beside meet Kurogane’s concerned gaze. Which just left Kurogane and Watanuki to share a couch in awkward silence as they worried about their respective partners. It was an odd sort of bonding.

 

When Yuuko finally left Doumeki’s room, Watanuki didn’t wait more than a few minutes before slipping in himself.

 

The journalist was standing against the kitchen counter, lost in furious thought. There was no greeting but Watanuki wasn’t shooed away either. He eased on to the table a few steps away and caught his eye, but when he smiled, Doumeki just looked away, glaring anew.

 

“Did you know?”

 

“About what?”

 

“Don’t play dumb.”

 

Watanuki felt the remark rankle. Doumeki had been underestimating him since they’d met, taking his kindness for weakness. How nice would it feel to just let go for a moment? To just let him know who he’s dealing with. But…

 

He took a breath, eyeing groceries they’d bought on the way home last night, sitting out still, so casually. So comfortable.

 

It was something he hadn’t been sure that he wanted, but he could feel it slipping out of his grasp now and it hurt.

 

When Watanuki responded his tone was light and he was smiling, even in the face of Doumeki’s bitterness. They would make it though this conversation, or they wouldn’t. All he could do was try. But at least then he’d know and they could stop teetering on this precipice.

 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

 

“She-” but then Doumeki cut himself off and Watanuki could see him decide against it. He wondered briefly just what she’d let slip to him. There were a lot of possibilities. “Did you know about the book?”

 

Watanuki smiled a little sheepishly. “I field her emails, Doumeki. How could I not?”

 

“Did you know she wanted me to write it?”

 

“It may have come up in conversation.”

 

Doumeki swallowed and took a step closer, still eyeing him so strangely, but Watanuki couldn’t answer what he didn’t ask. “And just what else do you two talk about?”

 

Watanuki couldn’t say anything specific, but denying things outright felt wrong too. “Oh, lots of things.” He tried to make it as light as possible. Something Doumeki could get used to, a small burden at a time, the same way Yuuko had done to him years ago. “She’s a very busy woman with a lot of responsibilities.” He shifted then, watching his own fingertips trace the edge of the new table he was perched on. “Did you think you might take it? The book deal?”

 

“Why would I?”

 

“People will buy it." Watanuki laced his fingers together, resting them between his knees. "The fans have been begging for something like this.” Doumeki didn’t look impressed. He wondered if it had been this frustrating for Yuuko to deal with him back when he’d first started, if he’d been this full of inflexible idealism, too.

 

He hoped not.

 

“It’s not that bad, you know.”

 

“What isn’t?”

 

“Selling out, I guess.” Watanuki let his feet kick slowly in the air where they dangled. “Playing the game.” He hesitated for a long moment but… now or never right? “It’s not a deal breaker, is it?”

 

He met Doumeki’s eye. The man’s amber gaze was openly critical. Openly suspicious. But then he took a step closer, letting his fingertips rest across the back of Watanuki’s hand. “I’m trying to remember why I liked you in the first place.”

 

“I don’t think I can help you there. I’ve never really understood it.”

 

“I think…” Doumeki raised a hand to run along his jaw, brow furrowed like the stretch of skin was something beyond his comprehension. “You were this one point of sanity, one point of good that pushed back against the whole mindset of fame and excess. You seemed to fight so hard and it was like at any moment you might get swallowed up by it.” The touch slid down the muscle at the side of his neck. “But maybe I misjudged.”

 

If Doumeki was trying to guilt trip him, it wasn’t working. Watanuki had stopped apologizing for who he was a long time ago. Besides, the harsh words were belayed by the way Doumeki’s hand had settled at the base of his neck. 

 

Watanuki reached out, catching his elbow and drawing him closer slowly. He could feel his own pulse where the finger tips pressed against him. “I don’t think anyone is really as good or as bad as we imagine them.”

 

“What would Himawari think?”

 

And it was all Watanuki could do to not laugh. “Himawari is one of us.” PR no less.

 

But then Doumeki pulled away. Watanuki would have been sure it was a bad sign if not for the way his face had softened. He didn’t look happy by a long shot, but disappointed was better than angry.

 

“I should go.” Watanuki said quietly. Doumeki had an idyllic worldview to grieve after all. “Do you want me to come back to cook together tonight?”

 

Doumeki looked at him warily, then pulled out his wallet. “Yeah, sure.” He found two slender pieces of paper. Tickets. “Tokyo Philharmonic is doing Mozart tomorrow. We always end up at your kind of concert, so I thought… ” He held one out, eyes not looking up from the paper. “If you want.”

 

Watanuki smiled gently, letting his fingers brush along Doumeki’s as he took it. “I do.”

 

Doumeki nodded, but pulled away after that, politely but undeniably communicating that their conversation was over for now.

 

Watanuki didn’t press, just left him to his privacy.

 

Once in the hallway though, he tucked the paper away, turning not to his room, but the staircase and the rooftop beyond.

 

It wasn’t luxurious. It might be with a few plants and some shade, but for now Watanuki was content as he sat against an air vent and let the sun soak into his skin. He closed his eyes and didn’t open them again until the door opened, footsteps approached and someone blocked his light.

 

“Thought you might need these.” Fai was holding out the cigarettes and lighter he’d left out in the common room last night.

 

Watanuki looked at him questioningly but nodded, offering Fai the spot next to him.

 

“I didn’t hear any yelling, so it must not have gone too badly.” Fai said as he sat down.

 

“Not everyone yells when they fight.” He hit the lighter and drew in a breath. Fai didn’t even hesitate before putting his hand out.

 

“Still. You seem alright.”

 

Watanuki passed it over and Fai took a grateful drag.

 

“I am, I think.” Watanuki took a moment to polish his glasses on the hem of his shirt. “How do you do it?”

 

“Do what?”

 

Watanuki gestured for the cigarette back but Fai pretended not to see it.

 

“How do you stay so cheery all the time? I know deep down you’re just as much of a cynical bastard as the rest of us.” Fai gave him a doubtful look, but he stood his ground. “I’ve been trying to watch myself around Doumeki and it’s just about killing me, but you do it practically all the time. What’s your secret?”

 

Fai just laughed a little in sympathy, then seemed to give it consideration. He held the cigarette out at arm’s length and just watched it burn for a moment.

 

“Probably the occasional bouts of really violent sex.”

 

The silence stretched.

 

When Watanuki had nothing to say to that, Fai turned to glance at him. He seemed a little lost in thought. “Sounds nice.” He finally managed a little weakly.

 

“It just really gets the aggression out.” He held his hand out, finally passing the cigarette back to Watanuki. “Or maybe it’s all the therapy. Who knows?”

 

As he took it carefully from Fai’s fingers, the door opened again, and Watanuki didn’t have to look to know who it was. Yuuko’s footsteps were something he could probably recognize anywhere. She didn’t ask to be invited before sitting down on Watanuki’s other side and stealing his cigarette. “Fai, you’re not smoking are you?”

 

“Of course not!” He smiled. “Haven’t touched one in years.” Fai was a master at lying so when he did so badly, they knew it was intentional.

 

She just shrugged. His life. His choices.

 

Her little protégé on the other hand…

 

“How did it go?” She asked.

 

“What did you do to him?”

 

“Sometimes it’s better to just get the worst of it over with.” He made a reach to take the cigarette but she put it back to her lips. “Like a bandaid.” She sighed it out with the smoke into the sky.

 

“I’m not even sure which worst you mean.” Watanuki was just complaining now. “There’s so many to choose from.”

 

She almost clarified…

 

But she glanced at Fai over the top of her assistant’s bowed head. He was already looking at her. Best friends though they were, there were still things she couldn’t discuss in front of him.

 

The look was interrupted by Watanuki grumbling between them. “You two are the worst. You know you’ve both just stolen my last cigarette of the pack? You bring it to me like you’re sooo nice, and then you smoke the whole thing in front of me.” She looked at the butt in her hand. It was nearly gone. “The entire thing. It’s just selfish.”

 

She grinned over at Fai and he gave her one to match.

 

“Watanuki, pass this down.” Yuuko used her ‘boss’ voice, then took the last drag, holding it in her lungs.

 

“Pass what down?”

 

She just leaned down and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

 

“What!? No!”

 

But then Fai was leaning in close over his other shoulder, pouting into his ear. “But I thought you said you wanted us to share?”

 

“You two are messed up.” He was fuming and a little indignant, but he shifted into position, though not without a final sarcastic “I thought you didn’t smoke anymore!” thrown over his shoulder.

 

She guided his attention back to her with a finger tip to his chin. He made absolutely the biggest deal about very clearly _not enjoying any of this this. Nope. Definitely not._ But when her lips parted he was there, hovering that short distance away as he filled his lungs with her smoke.

 

“Don’t be silly.” She chided, getting her breath back, fingertip still holding his chin up. “Shotgunning isn’t really smoking. Everyone knows that.”

 

But then Fai’s hand was on his jaw, pulling him to face the other direction. The blonde had leaned down a little, eyes half-lidded, lips parted and tilting his head up toward Watanuki, who just blinked at the sight.

 

He wondered for a moment why Fai wasn’t doing anything when he realized he was the one who needed to breathe out first.

 

As long as he didn’t move, then Fai waited there. Patient. Craving. Submissive. It was like he was stuck in slow motion. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t…

 

Fai’s brow furrowed the slightest bit and he huffed with the tiniest mewling sound of frustration.

 

Watanuki realized distantly that this must be just a fraction of what it must be like to be Kurogane. That thought, more than anything finally knocked the air out of his lungs.

 

But the stream was weak and he was pulling away. Fai tried to follow but he got a hand up on the blonde’s shoulder, keeping him away as he coughed and caught his breath.

 

And then Fai was moving against his palm. “That’s it!?” Fai whined, relentless in his pursuit. “You tease me like that and then just leave me with nothing?”

 

Watanuki tried to back away but there wasn’t anywhere to really go except into Yuuko’s lap. But Fai was still coming and… fuck it.

 

Watanuki scrambled over her legs and on to the floor beyond. Fai tried to follow but with a cackle she caught him, pinned against her legs. “Run Watanuki! I’ll hold him off for you!” Fai made a show of struggling for a moment before admitting defeat, letting his lower legs kick up and resting his chin on a hand. Watanuki had been braced for a chase but slowed to a walk when it was clear it wasn’t about to happen.

 

“Looks like it’s just us.” Fai smiled up at her.

 

“No, just me.” She corrected. He frowned. “Kurogane sent me up to say you need to get packed if you’re going to make it in time for lunch.”

 

Fai flailed defeat a second time, lying limp across her lap.

 

She just patted his head. “There, there. I know. Life is hard.” Then she called back to her assistant just as he reached the door. “Oh! And Watanuki!”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I need you to come to a meeting with me.”

 

“When?”

 

She checked her wrist. She wasn’t wearing a watch. “Five minutes.”

 

“Jeeze! Warn a guy will you!? For all you know I have some thing important planned.”

 

“You do.” She was back to the boss voice. “It’s with me in five minutes. Go get ready!” She barked.


	33. Chapter 33

Kamui couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds behind Subaru but as he eased open the bathroom door he was already sitting curled up on the bathroom floor, back against the side of the bathtub. His eyes were red like he’d been crying or retching or both.

 

“Subaru?”

 

His friend didn’t move. He was breathing too quickly and his knuckles were white where his fingers were digging into the material of his sleeves. 

“Hey, you’re ok.” Kamui didn’t hesitate before slipping to the floor, murmuring softly as he went. He wrapped his arms around Subaru and though he didn’t respond much, his head tipped minutely into the embrace. “You’re ok. It’s fine.” Kamui tucked Subaru’s head under his chin and pet his hair there slowly. “It’s all good.”

 

Slowly his breathing started to steady and Subaru became a little more responsive. “Kamui.” His voice was strained and it was like he had to choke out the word.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Subaru just reached back to find his hand and they held each other tightly.

 

“I’m here. We’re here. You’re fine.”

 

“Kamui?”

 

“What is it? What do you need?”

 

Sleep. Meds. Time. His sister. “Tea.”

 

“Ok. We’ve got it. We’ll make tea.” Kamui looked over his shoulder where Fuuma had been hovering in the doorway. A quick nod had him retreating to the kitchen. They sat together like that. Just breathing.

 

Then Fuuma returned, two mugs in hand.

 

Shakily Subaru reached out to grab it and took a sip. He frowned at it.

 

“Did you put milk in this?”

 

“Yeah.” Fuuma answered him in an easy tone. As If none of this was strange and bathroom floor tea parties were just a thing that people did.“Isn’t that how you like it?”

 

“You have to steep it first.” Kamui let him go as he sat up a little straighter. “You’ve still got the teabag in here and everything.” Subaru grabbed the paper tag in his other hand and fussed over it, spinning it around the mug a few times before deeming it a lost cause and just letting it drip out most of the liquid before throwing it in the bathroom garbage can.

 

“Do you want another one? I can make another one.”

 

“No. This is fine.”

 

“You sure? It’s easy to just throw another in the microwave.”

 

“You _microwaved_ this?” He looked uncomprehendingly at Fuuma then back at Kamui, like he might be able to help.

 

“Where Fuuma comes from, they stick teabags in jars and just leave them in the sun for a few days.” Kamui sipped calmly from his own mug.

 

“Don’t knock it.” Fuuma teased. “That shit’s delicious.”

 

Subaru looked between them, a little scandalized. “Mad. Both of you.”

 

“You wanna move this to the couch?” Kamui asked casually. “Might be more comfortable.”

 

“Sure.”

 

They settled a second time, Subaru in the middle and both of them sitting close, surrounding him with easy body contact. Kamui had grabbed the small pharmacy of orange and white bottles that was Subaru’s medications and set them and a glass of water on the corner of the coffee table. Nothing pressuring but there when he decided he was ready. It didn’t take long and Subaru picked out the one he’d missed with a practiced ease. Then he went back for a second bottle, swallowing down two tiny white pills. He hadn’t slept now for about two days and he’d be damned if it wasn’t happening within the next hour.

 

“You wanna talk about it?” Kamui asked gently.

 

“No.”

 

So they didn’t. They talked about anything else. Stupid things. Argued about whether the outlets were different in Japan. Brainstormed new villains for the band movie that they all knew was never going to happen. Tried to get Fuuma to judge who had the grosser guitar calluses, Kamui or Subaru. He claimed that the ones across the inside of his fingers from the drumsticks were more intense, but then the guitarists ganged up on him, letting him know that his weren’t that bad.

 

Slowly but surely the world stopped ending.

 

And then the medication hit. Soon Subaru was acting tired and they took the hint to leave. He walked them to the door. Thanked them for the tea. But Kamui needed to say something before he left. “If you need anything. We’re here for you, Ok? Like, anything.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And- And I don’t know what’s going on but if you want him gone, just say the word.” Kamui didn’t need to specify who. “No questions. No judgement. He’s just gone.”

 

Subaru couldn’t help but avoid his his eye contact. He didn’t really know what was going on either. He could probably apologize to Seishiro. He’d understand if it was all properly explained, right? But every time he tried to reason his way out of the situation, the logic fell through his fingertips. The chemicals must have already been messing with his brain. But experience had taught him that any thinking he tried to do past forty eight hours without sleep was futile anyway. He just needed sleep. Then time to try and sort this out.

 

But there was one thing he was sure of. He looked back up into their concerned faces. His two best friends had just been outed in the middle of a tour and the very, very last thing he wanted to do was compromise their safety by forcing a security change at the same time.

 

“No.” Subaru said, meeting their eyes and feeling his exhaustion in his head and his eyes and his bones. “I can handle it. I need to talk to him but…” He shook his head. “I don’t want him gone.”


	34. Chapter 34

Watanuki didn’t blink when Yuuko handed him the white terrycloth robe. She had a habit of mixing business with pleasure and if she was the one setting up an appointment, it was exactly her style to get a pedicure or acupuncture done at the same time. So he wasn't surprised as he changed, though he did complain loudly through the curtain the entire time.

 

Most spas didn’t mind if he tagged along. He usually sat to the side, unobtrusively taking down important notes or minutes for Yuuko  while she did the hard work of negotiating, interrogating or whatever was called for that day. Occasionally they might give him grief about bringing in electronic devices but heaven help whoever thought they could take his tablet away.

 

“I’m gonna need a chair.”

 

The room was already set up. Two massage tables. Dim lighting. Relaxing music and the sound of prayer bowls coming from …somewhere. Built into the walls maybe? And some floral scented candles burning in the corner.

 

“No. You’re on the table.”

 

“But the other person…”

 

“You _are_ the other person, Watanuki. I’m meeting with you.” She set her robe aside, lying on her stomach, pulling the waiting towel across her hips. “So lay down so we can get started.”

 

He did, but with enough huffing and tsk-ing that it was clear how he felt about it. “If you wanted to talk to me, you could have just done it back at the apartments.”

 

“Maybe, but it’s been stressing me out just to look at you lately.” The masseuses entered to some unknown signal. “Two birds, one stone. Besides,” She settled, laying her cheek on the back of a hand so she could watch Watanuki while the pressure began on her back, “It’s been so long since we spent time together, just the two of us like this. I wouldn’t want you to start feeling neglected.”

 

“Spared, more like.” He grumbled under his breath.

 

“Oh hush.” She turned her head, laying her neck straight as the hands on her back worked higher. “So, How did your talk with Doumeki _really_ go?”

 

“Sheesh.” Watanuki winced. “You’re not beating around the bush today are you?”

 

“I’m a busy woman.”

 

Despite their banter they were both starting to melt under the attention of the skilled hands at their backs.

 

“I don’t know. Ok, I guess. He seemed pretty pissed.”

 

“It’s alright. You’re cute. He’ll get over it.”

 

He used to question spilling all of his inner thoughts to her like this. Now it just seemed natural. Honesty was usually the best policy when she was in this sort of mood. “I don't think that's it. He doesn’t… I don’t know if he really cares what I look like. I don’t think that’s why he’s into me. He had this… idea of what I was, you know?”

 

“An idea?”

 

“He said he used to think I was like, innocent or something. He sort of has this white knight complex I guess. I think he thought he needed to save me.”

 

“Oh?” She seemed to be enjoying this. “From what exactly?”

 

He should have felt annoyed, but the knot in his shoulder was almost gone and Watanuki was currently feeling a little too blissful to care. “You, probably. ‘The business.’ Real life?”

 

“How cute.” There was silence for a moment. “Well…”

 

“‘Well’ what?”

 

“Aren’t you going to to ask my advice?”

 

“No.” The masseuse had started on his legs and he winced as her thumbs dug into his calf. “Then I’ll owe you a favor.”

 

“You already work for me.”

 

“Yeah but the stuff you don’t pay me for is always worse.”

 

“Awww!” She pouted, but… lazily. Something magical was currently happening to the palm of her left hand. “But I’m great at relationships.”

 

“Staying with your high school sweetheart doesn’t make you some love genius. It just makes you lucky.”

 

“No such thing as luck.” The masseuses interrupted to have them turn over. Yuuko caught a glimpse of her assistant before closing her eyes as oil ran through her hair and fingers worked along her scalp. “You remind me of him sometimes.”

 

“That’s horrifying.” Or at least as horrifying as anything could be when warm fingers were rubbing slow circles into your temples. “Please never say that again.”

 

“Sometimes I think if we’d had a kid, he would have ended up like you.”

 

“What, emotionally scarred?”

 

She grinned. “Smart. Kind. Brave. And pretty.”

 

“Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about _anything_ else.”

 

“Let’s talk about you and Doumeki.”

 

“Ok! Ok, fine.” He grumbled. But not as much as he could have. Whatever his attendant had started spreading across his cheek felt like it was made of cloud. “It’s confusing, ok?” Even now he couldn’t not talk with his hands, not that Yuuko could see them, eyes closed as her own mask was being applied. “Ever since he brought up the three-”

 

Watanuki caught himself at the last second. Threesome? Threeway? Why did it have to sound so inherently explicit? Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about-

 

“-person arrangement, I guess things have been going better. I mean, that’s something I could at least see happening but…”

 

“But?” She prompted gently.

 

“But it’s still scary!" And there were the whiny tones of a Watanuki that had finally been worn down and was speaking from the heart. "I would never want to give up on her for him but the closer I get to Doumeki the worse it’s going to be if I have to end it with him later. I almost wish he'd left me alone in the first place, but it's too late now!”

 

“It’s quite the conundrum.”

 

“I thought the least I could do for him was just sort of put things on pause while we wait to get back to New York. Then I’m not leading him on, right? But… I mean that didn’t really work out either and I think he’s getting impatient.”

 

“It has been a while. Surely you know how you feel by now?”

 

“I do.” And that was it’s own new and terrifying aspect to consider. “But it doesn’t matter what I feel if she doesn’t feel the same way.” He sighed. It was a defeated little noise. “I just- I wish I could just talk to her. It would make everything so much simpler.”

 

“Well, you can ask her when she get’s here.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He sighed.

 

Wait.

 

“What!?” Watanuki sat up, staring down at Yuuko in horror.

 

She deigned to open a single eyelid. “Her plane is supposed to get in tonight.”

 

“She’s coming _here_?”

 

She sat up, waving her masseuse away for the moment, towel held to her front. “Watanuki. We have just had a major leak of private photos and two thirds of my opening act has been outed as not only gay, but with each other. Of _course_ the label is sending her to Tokyo. Doing anything other than assigning our lead PR agent to deal with this in person would be negligent.”

 

“I… I have to go! I have to get ready!” He was already looking for his glasses.

 

“Watanuki, sit!” She barked out the harshest boss voice she had. He listened. He couldn’t help it. “You have at least six hours before she lands. If that mask doesn’t stay on your face for the full recommended time so help me I will make you pay for it!”

 

He stilled. He’d seen the price list in the changing room.

 

“But…”

 

“No. Hush. You will lay back down. You will finish getting pampered. You will enjoy it and you will relax.”

 

There was a pitiful grumble that almost certainly contained Himawari's name.

 

"Watanuki!" Yuuko's voice was stern with warning.

 

"Yeah, yeah." He said, giving her a glare but laying back down.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo meine Lieblinge! I had a crazy Easter weekend, equal parts stressful and amazing, but I'm glad to be back. There were so many beautiful CLAMP cosplayers. I was in heaven. *u*

“Are you gonna…” Doumeki trailed off when Watanuki didn’t respond to his voice. He would have almost believed he couldn’t hear him. “Are you gonna go get her?” Doumeki asked again, eyeing him carefully from the driver’s seat.

 

“Yes!” Watanuki snapped. But he didn’t move.

 

“Today, or…?”

 

“Obviously!” Watanuki tore his gaze away from the glass doors to glare at him instead. “I just need a minute, ok!? You’re so impatient.”

 

“Uh huh.” Doumeki watched with mild interest as a young couple struggled to move six bags on a cart before the crosswalk signal timed out. “Only, what if she gets to baggage claim and you’re not there to meet her yet?”

 

Doumeki had tried, _really_ tried to stay mad, but when Watanuki had showed up at his door in a panic and with a confused explanation that Himawari was only an hour from landing, all he could see was someone asking for help. Curse the protective instincts that had made him fall for the man in the first place.

 

“I’m not going to stand her up! I just…” He had to spit it out. “I don’t know what to say to her!”

 

Doumeki just looked at him. “How about, ‘Hello Himawari. Welcome to Japan. Can I carry your bag?’”

 

“Yeah, but… I mean… How do I talk about… You know…” He gestured between them and then vaguely to the door.

 

“You don’t!” Doumeki’s face didn’t really do ‘shock’ but it was currently making a decent attempt. “And definitely not at the airport.”

 

“So we wait till we’re back at the apartments?

 

“No! You-” Doumeki cut himself off and started again. “She’s not here so that you can sort out your relationship issues. She’s here to do her job!”

 

“But we might not see her again until after tour. I don’t know if I can-”

 

Doumeki looked away, glaring at the oncoming traffic in his driver’s side mirror. Really!? Of all the hypocritical-

 

Watanuki’s hand touched his elbow. “I mean, how much longer am I supposed to ask you to wait?”

 

When he looked over, Watanuki looked hesitant.

 

Oh.

 

Yeah, that made more sense.

 

Doumeki had sort of assumed they had been on the same page, but apparently he should have actually talked to Watanuki about this. He would have to do some quick maneuvering if they were going to have a game plan in the next minute. He softened, looking at Watanuki’s hand on his sleeve. “Don’t worry about me, ok? Maybe it works out. Maybe it doesn’t.” He shrugged and when Watanuki started to take his hand away he caught it, his thumb moving in tiny stroking motions over his index knuckle. “I get what you have on the line here, so… whatever you need. All right?” He finally looked up into his eyes. “Time. Space. Whatever.”

 

On some level, he saw Watanuki take that in. There was a short silence paying respect to it. But he still had the very real and immediate problem of the girl of his dreams waiting for him at baggage claim. “Wait, so we just don’t ask her?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, no, we will, but you can’t just surprise her with it.”

 

Watanuki’s voice was getting a little more strained, tinged with panic and frustration. “We do. We don’t. I’m getting mixed instructions here, Doumeki!”

 

“Ok first thing, calm down.” Doumeki laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Remember the first few months we were friends and you knew I liked you and I knew you knew but it wasn’t horrible and awkward because I wasn’t an ass and I never pressured you.”

 

“Yeah.” Watanuki said it hesitantly. Like it might be a trap.

 

“Do that.”

 

Watanuki looked suddenly panicked. “You think she knows I like her?”

 

He had to fight the urge not to roll his eyes. “Anyone who has ever seen you two in the same room knows you like her, but your friendship has made it this far. Don’t freak out about it, ok?”

 

Watanuki deflated a little. Took a few nervous breaths, then his attention was caught by the touch on his shoulder. “Doumeki…”

 

“What?”

 

“While she’s here can you not… you know.”

 

Doumeki felt an eye twitch. “You think I’ve waited months for you, just to finally make a move now?”

 

“No! I just… I wanted to be sure.”

 

“No, I won’t do anything, now go get her before she decides we didn’t show up and catches a taxi.”

 

In the end it took a physical push to get Watanuki out of the car door.

 

He returned minutes later with an elated look on his face and a spring in his step despite the three bags weighing him down. He threw them in the trunk before running around in time to open the passenger door.

 

“Oh, Hey Doumeki!” Himawari slipped into the seat with a smile and a little wave.

 

“Hey.” He nodded. Over her shoulder Watanuki was looking like he might be having a heart attack. “How was your flight?”

 

“Good! The label flew me business class. I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun on a plane.”

 

“Did you get to sleep at all?” As she reached around for her seat belt, Doumeki caught Watanuki’s eye and nodded meaningfully at the backseat. He took the hint and finally got into the car.

 

“Not really.” She frowned. “Mostly I worked on the press conference for tomorrow.” Then she shrugged and the smile was back. “But at least my seat was comfy!”

 

They made their way back to the apartments without indecent, Doumeki carefully drawing Watanuki back into their conversations so that by the time they arrived he was acting at least a little less suspiciously. When they got out, Watanuki didn’t even give Doumeki a chance to carry a bag so it was up to him to open doors instead.

 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go out to eat?” He asked as they passed him by at the main entrance. “There’s lots of places nearby.”

 

“Oh, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather eat in. I’m pretty tired and there’s still work to do.” She glanced back at them over her shoulder. “Besides, if Watanuki is cooking I’ll bet you it’s better than what we’d find in a restaurant.”

 

Watanuki blushed hard at the compliment, trying to wave it away, but also not able to get the grin off his face. “I’m sure that’s not true! I’m not even that good at Japanese food. I mean I sort of know what I’m doing but if you change your mind I understand.” He was rambling in that higher pitched way he sometimes did around her. “You don’t need to eat it just to be polite, you know.”

 

“No, I really like it!” Himawari said with a smile as she pressed the elevator button.

 

Watanuki looked like he might start floating if he wasn’t careful.

 

Doumeki had been worried but they seemed to make it through dinner ok. Watanuki was… Well, it wasn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination, but it seemed to be whatever passed for normal between him and Himawari. She seemed comfortable enough to let his adoration wash over her, for the most part ignoring it but occasionally accepting it for what it was. Watanuki was lost in her. And Doumeki was starting to get lost in seeing him like this.

 

The last few days had had him on edge a little, second guessing if he’d been projecting that wide-eyed innocence he thought he’d first seen in Watanuki, but here it was back in full force. It felt good. It felt right. It-

 

Shit.

 

They were looking at him again.

 

What had they been talking about?

 

“Sorry, what?” Doumeki had been worried about Watanuki clamming up or panicking or… he wasn’t sure what. But it turned out he himself was the weak link tonight. He kept getting lost in thought as he watched them together.

 

The look Watanuki shot him told him he’d gotten caught again. “I asked if there might be any more tickets to the concert tomorrow?” he repeated.

 

“Oh. Um… probably not, actually. They’ve been sold out for a while now and even ours were a favor someone owed me.” Watanuki seemed to deflate a little. “But you can take mine if you want.” He offered Himawari. “I used to see classical all the time. You might appreciate it more.”

 

Himawari missed the troubled little furrow of Watanuki’s brow, but Doumeki didn’t.

 

“That’s a kind offer, Doumeki,” She smiled. “But we’ve got the press conference tomorrow. Plus an appearance after. I don’t think I’ll really have any free time until that’s all over. But thanks all the same!”

 

“Yeah. No problem.”

 

He’d expected jealousy, at least a little, but it never came. He let his imagination wander a little, carefully trying out hypotheticals, testing his limits. What if Himawari moved her hand a few inches to let it cover Watanuki’s? What if Watanuki leaned over to kiss her? What about if they moved on to something more?

 

Nothing.

 

Well, not _nothing_.

 

Because Watanuki would probably blush and try to hide it. He might bite a lip, shy under her affections. His breath would probably catch in excitement and… And all Doumeki felt was a warmth in his chest and fondness so intense it was almost painful.

 

What if…

 

What if it was his own hand that she held? What would it feel like to hold her close? To look into those deep, dark eyes and know that blue ones were somewhere nearby, watching you?

 

“Doumeki?” She asked. “Are you alright?”

 

Shit! Again!?

 

“Yeah!” He looked quickly back down to his bowl, catching a mushroom between his chopsticks after a few tries. “Sorry. I keep spacing out. I must still be jet-lagged or something.”

 

“That’s fine.” She said with a stretch. “I’m feeling pretty out of it myself, too.” The stretch turned into a yawn that surprised her. She hurried to cover her mouth and winced an apology, not that either of the men watching her would think to blame her for it. “I know it’s rude not to help with dishes, but would it be alright if I headed to bed early?”

 

She barely had time to finish the question before Watanuki was waving it away, doting on her as she gathered up her things and walked her to the door. With a laugh she drew the line at letting him walk her to her own apartment, confident that she could make it down one floor on her own. Watanuki compromised by waving at her until the elevator door shut.

 

“Well,” Watanuki turned, a relieved but excited grin on his face as he shut the door. Doumeki had settled with his hips against the table, his hands to either side and Watanuki fell easily into place under an arm. They both just watched the door. “That went well.”

 

“Really well.” Doumeki sounded just as dazed.

 

“Much better than I’d hoped.”

 

There was silence for a moment.

 

Then Watanuki’s hand settled over his on the table ledge. He looked down. Watanuki looked up. It was like there was a force pulling them closer.

 

“This could really work out.” Watanuki said quietly, but his eyes were bright with hope and as much as he fought it, the edges of his lips were curling into a grin.

 

It was like someone was squeezing his heart. “It could.” Doumeki echoed, lost in blue eyes. Was he imagining the way Watanuki seemed to be leaning in?

 

“I promised I wouldn’t make a move, but-”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

It was relief, like finally giving into gravity. His eyes slid shut as Watanuki met him halfway, lips warm and firm against his own. There was so much Doumeki couldn’t say. Wouldn’t even know how to say. But he hoped it was coming across in the tender way he moved against him, answering every caress. Then for a moment he slid deeper, tasting Watanuki’s still savory-salty mouth as the tip of his tongue teased between his lips. Watanuki groaned but pulled back. His hand had moved from where it had been intertwined with his on the table edge, to be a steadying force against his chest. It was a clear signal of his limits but Doumeki didn’t miss the way his blue eyes were blown out, pupils dark and wide.

 

They were both thinking it.

 

Slowly, keeping his hands on the table, Doumeki leaned down again, careful to keep the kisses chaste, even as Watanuki seemed to forget himself and let the hand on his chest drag down, wrapping around his waist. He just barely fought back the groan and-

 

And they had to stop if Watanuki had been serious about his boundaries.

 

He worked his way back slowly. Meaning to stop all at once but powerless to Watanuki’s silent requests of just one more. Just two more. One last kiss. But eventually they did still, breathing slightly heavy as they hovered only an inch from each other.

 

“So… Did you make anything for dessert?” Doumeki’s voice wasn’t quite even, but it was a commendable effort.

 

“You’re very greedy, you know that?” Watanuki grinned, laughing under his breath. He leaned in for one last peck against the corner of his mouth before pulling away smiling. “Just the worst.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the Trigger Warnings at the end of the chapter if you are worried, please! <3 I don't want to catch anyone off guard.

Fai had started the journey smelling like cigarettes, the brand favored by Yuuko and Watanuki. Kurogane had ignored it. ‘Healthy Boundaries’ and everything…

 

It probably should have been his first warning.

 

There had been another chance after dinner. Fai had sat mostly in polite silence through dinner as they met with Kurogane’s cousin, his wife and their new child. Kurogane’s parents usually used English in deference to Fai, but his cousin’s family wasn’t fluent and in the end, despite good intentions all around, they stopped explaining jokes and references, leaving Fai alone in the middle of so much company. He’d barely said goodnight after dinner before retreating to the bedroom. It was usually a toss up whether such a situation needed space or attention. His gut had told him ‘space’ so he’d stayed out on the porch, catching up on family news and getting acquainted with the newest addition.

 

A cold hand fell on his shoulder and Kurogane blinked in to wakefulness.

 

“Good morning, Kurogane.”

 

It was too late now.

 

He sat up quickly, trying to grasp the situation even as his stomach dropped. “Fai, what’s wrong?” The blonde was fully dressed. His bag was repacked and sitting by the door.

 

“Nothing.” He wasn’t meeting his eye. “I just need to go.”

 

“Go?” Kurogane grasped around for a shirt but only found the T-shirt he’d worn for the drive yesterday. It would do. “Why?” He pulled it on and climbed out of bed, subconsciously positioning himself between Fai and the door.

 

“Because I need to.”

 

‘Healthy boundaries’ Kurogane thought. But… “Is it the Japanese?”

 

“No. It’s not important-” Fai shifted to step around him but Kurogane was quick to block the movement.

 

“The baby?”

 

“No.” Fai’s jaw was tight and his neck strained in carefully contained emotion. “I mean it doesn’t help but-”

 

“Fai, please.” Kurogane had an arm out, blocking the door. “If you have to go, go, but please just…” Fai was blinking too quickly. “what was it?”

 

“It’s everything!” Fai snapped, finally meeting his eyes. “Ok? Happy now?” Fai spread his hands in surrender and offering. “It’s the Japanese. It’s your perfect family and their perfect new baby and your perfect parents, ok?”

 

Kurogane took a careful breath and held back as much of the grimace as he could.

 

Those blue eyes were desperate.

 

‘Our family’. Why couldn’t he make the blonde understand? ‘Our perfect family.’

 

“I saw how you were holding her.” Fai had crossed his arms in a white knuckled hold. “We can’t- You can’t have that as long as you have to look after me.”

 

“You’re freaking out because you think I want a baby?” He tried to make it sound ridiculous but the sarcasm just didn’t show up with enough force. Because he did. He did want a child. And this man to be his husband. And their own house, and their own family and-

 

But he’d wait until they were ready. However long that ended up being.

 

“You’d have your own practice by now if you’d never met me.”

 

Maybe. Probably. But so what? He’d made his choice to stay with Yuuko’s label and he’d never looked back on it.

 

“So?” It was like everything Fai said was true but he couldn’t follow any of the logic of it.

 

“So you’re a lawyer! Don’t you ever get embarrassed by not growing out of the starving artist phase?”

 

“What?”

 

“You could have ended up with someone successful. But instead you bring home…” Fai gestured grimly to himself.

 

It took Kurogane a full few seconds to even begin to respond to that. Fai’s song writing hadn’t been out of the top twenty chart for the past three years excepting a five week stretch last Spring. If that wasn’t success, he wasn’t sure how to define it. Of course he was proud to bring him home to his parents.

 

“Fai, my parents love you.”

 

“Don’t start me on your parents, Kuro.”

 

“My parents?” Fai had been talking a lot of shit, but this barb fell somewhere sensitive. He couldn’t help but sound defensive. “They’ve done nothing but welcome you, Fai.”

 

“Kuro, you know what I mean.” Fai was frowning, like he had any room to talk. Maybe he did but… “Just try and see things from my perspective.”

 

Something very basic to Kurogane’s current worldview snapped. “Your perspective?” He hissed. “I don’t know if you haven’t fucking noticed, Fai, but _everything_ I’ve done for the past two months has been me putting up with your shit because I’m looking at things from your perspective!”

 

Fai’s eyes were fierce as he glared up and Kurogane knew before the words even left his mouth that he had made a mistake. “Well, I’m sorry to be such a burden.” He spat.

 

“Fai, stop. You know that’s not what I mean.” Kurogane sagged against the closed door. There was anger there, naturally, but more than that there was concern and worry.

 

He took deep breaths counting to ten in his head, willing himself to calm down. Taking in the way Fai was standing his ground but hiding behind his bangs at the same time.

 

For someone so smart you’d think he’d get it eventually. After all the years. All the sacrifices he’d made.

 

If only he could see himself the way Kurogane did. Not the addict but the artist. Not the relapse but the fight. Not the failure but the survivor.

 

You’d think he’d figure out just how irreplaceable he was in his life.

 

“Look, Fai…” Words were Kurogane’s life’s work. His sword and shield. Snd each day whether at his desk or in court it was like he was marching into war. But when Fai felt cornered, his words were like magic, woven into decoys, traps and snares, and it took all Kurogane’s concentration to try and reach past them to the man beyond. It wasn’t a battle he always won, but he kept fighting regardless. “You know the last few months have been hard, but the light at the end of the tunnel is so close now. And I’m not going anywhere. Can’t we just hold out a little longer and then take a breath when we get home? Just focus on us, maybe?” Fai wasn’t responding. “Or… you know what? We can go now if you want. They don’t need us on tour anyway. If it’s more trouble than it’s worth we can just go home.” Kurogane took a step towards the blonde. “I don’t care about everything else. You know that right? As long as it’s you and me. I get nervous too, but as long as we’re together-”

 

“If you’re working your way up to asking again, the answer is still ‘no’.”

 

And sometimes Fai’s words were like a fireball, brought down at just the right moment to burn everything in sight.

 

And wasn’t that just typical? Fai could spend months in fragile depressions, forcing everyone around into walking on eggshells, but the moment Kurogane tried to share an insecurity, it got shut down.

 

It wasn’t fair.

 

Nothing about loving Fai was fair.

 

“Then what do you want from me?” Kurogane raged. “What more could you _possibly_ want?”

 

“Kurogane!” The name burned like acid. Fai’s eyes were hard to the point that not even he could read them.

 

It was cold.

 

It was furious.

 

Fai tugged on his wrist and Kurogane hadn’t realized he’d grabbed it. Certainly hadn’t realized he’d been holding it that tightly.

 

“Sorry!” He said, letting go and snatching his hands back. “Sorry. Fuck, I- I didn’t notice.”

 

Fai didn’t say anything. Just nursed his bruised wrist and stared hard at the wall.

 

“Are you ok?”

 

“I need to go.” It wasn’t a whisper but it sounded so quiet after all the yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for team codependent not handling their anxieties very well. Culminates in a small injury because of Kurogane's anger management issues.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you sitting comfortably?

In some ways it felt like being in school again. Doumeki had donned a tux, tickets safe in the inner pocket of his jacket, and it was almost like being back in the dorms when he only had to walk a few doors down to retrieve his date. He knocked and didn’t have to wait long before it opened.

 

The similarities stopped there.

 

The clatter of nails on hardwood was all the warning they got before Watanuki had to snap out a quick “Mugetsu, sit!” before Doumeki’s dark slacks would have been subjected to beige dog hair and the tiny fabric pulls of those claws, well manicured though they may be.

 

Not that Doumeki had much attention left over to spare for the dog. “What are you wearing?”

 

He’d been expecting some variation on the slacks and shirt Watanuki seemed to wear to most of Yuuko’s events, but this was something else entirely. Burgundy silk wrapped around Watanuki in a high collared, long sleeved, fitted robe. It fell to mid-thigh with slits extending up the side on each hip, where he wore a dark pair of pants underneath. He wouldn’t call it simple. Minimalist, maybe? It was all overlaid by a broach to one side, trailed with strings of dark green beads that hung draped around his shoulders and back, catching the light even in the apartment’s sub-par lighting. It didn’t feel western but it wasn’t something he’d seen in Japan yet either.

 

Watanuki frowned, holding up an arm and watching as the trailing beads shifted with his movement. “Too much? You said formal.”

 

“No.” Doumeki corrected. “It’s nice. Just… I never see you in stuff like this.”

 

“Uh yeah,” Watanuki smirked. “You always see me when I’m working. You think I _want_ to dress that uptight?”

 

“I guess I hadn’t realized there was an alternative.” Doumeki nodded to the dog, still sitting obediently, but begging softly for attention. “Is he going to be ok?”

 

“Mugetsu?” Watanuki asked, tossing him a treat as they left. “Yeah he’ll be fine. We just went out and Yuuko has my spare key to get him back after the press conference.”

 

Their seats weren’t the best, about halfway back the first balcony and on the wrong side to see the soloist’s hands, but there was still plenty to see and the acoustics were great.

 

They spent intermission on the top floor balcony, Watanuki smoking, Doumeki sipping champagne and both appreciating the Tokyo skyline at night. When they slipped back into their seats for the second half, Watanuki’s hand brushed against his on the armrest. He would have thought it an accident but for the way he twined their pinkies together. He looked over, tried to catch his eye, but Watanuki was just smiling, looking to the stage and the lights were starting to dim anyway.

 

When the concert was over, they almost made it out. There were vague plans of a drink somewhere and maybe a midnight snack. But instead they were intercepted by an old friend of Doumeki’s and extended an invitation to the official after party reception. It wasn’t the place for a date, but this was the friend that had found them tickets in the first place and it would be rude to refuse.

 

But now Doumeki was almost glad for it. He’d had no idea how easily Watanuki could fit into his world. These parties weren’t made to be fun. Maybe for the musicians, but to everyone else they were an opportunity. A two-hour barrage of new contacts to network and donors to flatter. And Watanuki navigated it effortlessly. Not just surviving, but looking like he was having fun. He shook hands. He smiled. He laughed. He charmed.

 

The only hiccup was-

 

“And who is this, Doumeki?”

 

“This is…”

 

His colleague? His friend? An associate at Destiny Records? The temp with the weirdly permanent contract?

 

Yuuko Ichihara’s assistant? Her baby sitter? Her primary victim? Her favorite project? There wasn’t really an easy label to any aspect of what Watanuki was.

 

He glanced over and Watanuki was just watching him with false innocence, enjoying his struggle.

 

But just before the silence stretched into something awkward, he took pity, wrapping a hand around his elbow and extending the other in a friendly handshake. “I’m Watanuki Kimihiro.” He smiled. “I’m his plus one.”

 

Relative pity.

 

Doumeki choked a little but covered it with a cough. The few minutes before the man wandered away were agonizing but as soon as he did…

 

“‘Plus one?’” He asked, voice tight.

 

“It’s good, right?” Watanuki smirked. “I’ve been saving that for a while.”

 

“He’s going to think we’re-” Doumeki was cut off with a look.

 

“Well,” Watanuki turned to him, brushing invisible lint off his shoulder, straightening his already straight bow tie. “We are, aren’t we?”

 

“We are?” Doumeki asked lightly, not wanting to jinx it.

 

“Yeah.” Watanuki patted his lapel. Then his careful calm broke with a grin. “But don’t freak out, ok? I’m really enjoying this party.”

 

And just like that, he wasn’t Doumeki Shizuka, newbie at Rolling Stone. He was Doumeki Shizuka half of _that really charming couple over there by the windows. You haven’t met them? Oh you have to go say ‘hello’. He does something pretty high up at Destiny Records. I didn’t quite catch what he said, but it must be management or something. The other one? An author. I think he’s working on the new Crossroad Karma biography? I’m sure I’ve heard that somewhere… It’s still pretty hush hush. Quite the power couple, don’t you think?_

The rumors circulated much longer than they did.

 

But they were long gone. Eschewing drinks on the town for the quiet comfort of the apartments. The normally lively halls stood empty. Too early for the people who went out at normal times to be coming back, and too late to catch the people who went out late before they left. If everything was going to schedule, the bands were just arriving at the club where at precisely 12:35 a ‘fight’ was going to break out and Kamui was going to be kicked out of the club where some paparazzi who ‘just happened to be in the right place at the right time’ would catch a photo that would make it in time to circulate in the next day’s tabloids.

 

They might be gay now, but it was important to remind people they were just as punk as they’d been forty-eight hours ago.

 

As they reached his room, Watanuki hesitated, hand on the door handle. He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you want to come in for coffee?” He tried, tried so hard to ask like it was a normal question.

 

Doumeki almost said no. It felt too dangerous. They’d spent so much time together the past few months. Most of it alone. But there was a whole new tension tonight and it almost scared him. He felt too hot, too tight all over and he was kidding himself if he thought his breathing wasn’t a little too shallow. But this was ridiculous. It was just Watanuki. Just Watanuki’s apartment. Just coffee.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Watanuki tried to act natural as he worked on the drinks, but he was probably failing, especially with the way Doumeki was looking at him as he sat down at the table.

 

The small talk. The conversation. It just… didn’t come.

 

The scent of coffee (good coffee) filled the room and the machine hissed and spat as the last of the liquid came through.

 

“We should-” And Watanuki cut himself off, trying to ease the strain out of his voice. It was marginally better with his second attempt. “We should get that.”

 

“Yeah.” But Doumeki didn’t move from where he was eyefucking him across the table.

 

“Right.” His voice was breathless and he tried to get it together, but his hands were shaky as he filled two mugs. “Maybe… maybe the couch? It’s more comfortable.” That and they wouldn’t be stuck staring at each other as they drank.

 

Doumeki blinked a few times, processing the question. “Yeah. The couch.” And he followed, sitting at one end while Watanuki sat carefully on the far side.

 

He slid a mug down, not looking at Doumeki as he did so, then returned to his own like a life-line. He held it between two careful hands, rippling the surface as he blew away steam.

 

Coffee had been a terrible idea. His throat felt too tight to breathe, let alone drink, and if his pulse was pounding this hard now then he’d probably have a heart attack once the caffeine hit his blood stream. And still he couldn’t get his fucking hands to stop shaking and-

 

“Watanuki.”

 

He looked over sharply.

 

“Should I go?” Doumeki hadn’t touched his mug.

 

Watanuki laughed a little desperately. “Not thirsty?” The words left his mouth before passing by anything like a filter. He cringed as soon as they hit his own ears.

 

Doumeki looked slowly from the mug then back to him, the effort of restraint obvious in the tension of his jaw, the way his hands were fisted. “Not exactly craving coffee.”

 

Watanuki felt himself clam up, staring at the mug as he placed it on the table.

 

Doumeki shifted on his own side of the couch. “I _should_ go.” He moved to stand up. “Sorry about the coffee. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“Wait!”

 

He froze, turning back to Watanuki.

 

“Kiss me good night?”

 

Doumeki cringed. It was what he wanted. _God_ , was it what he wanted, but at the same time it was such torture. Did Watanuki even realize what he was asking of him? “Really?”

 

“Please?” Watanuki’s eyes were dark, even in the low lighting of the apartment it was clear as day to see the want there. Watanuki. Wanting him. Finally. But that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it?

 

He moved closer anyway, sitting back down on the edge of the couch. Watanuki didn’t move to meet him, and Doumeki sat just as frozen.

 

The moment stretched.

 

One of them had to… One of them had to do it and damn Watanuki for making him take the initiative. Decision made, he leaned in quickly, tilting his head and fitting their mouths together. He’d expected it to be unbearable, but it wasn’t. Not at all. It was like for the first time in a while, he could breathe easy, that craving for contacted finally satisfied.

 

At least until Watanuki brought a hand up to rest against his neck, the subtle clench of those fingertips pulling him right back under.

 

Watanuki hummed at him in appreciation and leaned back unconsciously, pulling him closer. Pulling him over. Doumeki braced a hand against the back of the couch and the other against the arm rest, resisting the pull as Watanuki settled under him.

 

“Doumeki?” Blue eyes blinked up at him in concern.

 

“I don’t…” He took a steadying breath and closed his eyes. “I don’t know how far you want to go right now, but if you start something I’m going to want to keep going.”

 

There wasn’t an answer. Not right away. He didn’t open his eyes until there was movement beneath him. Watanuki was sitting up carefully, eyes flitting over him, his chest, his shoulder, his mouth. His eyes for a short moment. Then his gaze fell and biting his own lip, he carefully pulled off his glasses, reaching out to set them on the table, before slipping his finger tips under the sides of Doumeki’s suit jacket. There were still two layers of cloth between the touch and his sides, but that didn’t stop the way the heat ran through his body. “Ok.” Watanuki breathed.

 

“You mean...?” Doumeki tried to choke it out but his throat was tight.

 

“I’m saying don’t stop.” And with that one last sighed instruction, Watanuki pulled him close again.

 

They started slow, as was their habit by now, trading light caresses and moving together. But this time when Doumeki probed deeper with the tip of a tongue, teasing lips apart, he wasn’t pushed away. With a sharp inhalation Watanuki allowed it, fingertips digging reflexively into his side. Doumeki's small moan was caught in his throat as he moved deeper, mapping the inside of Watanuki’s mouth with curious little strokes, learning what made him whine and sigh and groan, all while Watanuki’s tongue worked against his own.

 

It was heaven. He just wanted to stay like this forever, exploring Watanuki with touch and tongue and teeth and-

 

_Teeth._

He backed off, catching Watanuki’s lower lip in a soft bite and pulling on it. Watanuki’s eyes shot open, and for a moment held eye contact before Doumeki bit down harder. Then Watanuki’s eyes screwed shut as he arched up and a whine forced it’s way through his throat. Watanuki’s thighs were squeezing one of his own in a vice grip as a shudder ran though him. Under him, Watanuki just breathed through it, relishing the feeling.

 

God, how much he wanted just this. To spend all night taking Watanuki apart inch by inch... But… The barest movement of his thigh confirmed that Watanuki was just as achingly hard as he was.

 

The movement brought Watanuki back with a gasp as he pulled away, pressing himself against the armrest. They stilled for two labored breaths before they caught eachother’s gaze. Doumeki could see it in his eyes, too. The bittersweet realization that this wasn’t going to last long.

 

Watanuki pushed at the shoulders of his jacket and he was quick to comply, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Watanuki’s fingers worked quickly, unbuttoning Doumeki’s shirt and unlatching the cummerbund from his waist. He pulled the shirttails free, hurried to get his hand slipped under his undershirt and moving on flesh.

 

Doumeki for all of his frustrated exploration still hadn’t found where Watanuki’s robe opened. After the second time his fingers ended up tangled in green crystals, he growled and Watanuki pushed him back and down, equally frustrated with the lack of progress.

 

“It’s a broach!” Watanuki growled with a voice rough and low. “It’s a fucking broach just-!” He didn’t even have to look as he slipped the pin and pulled the material free, leaving him in his own undershirt as well. He turned to lay the garment carefully on the armrest they had just vacated and had to do a reluctant double take as the hiss of silk accompanied it falling to the floor. Doumeki could see the hesitation before he decided to let it lay there, and turned his attention back. He settled, straddled over Doumeki’s thighs.

 

“You’re not going to pick it up?” Doumeki asked, the slightest hint of teasing coloring his words.

 

It was enough. Watanuki’s gaze flicked up to the man beneath him. Drug down his torso where the shirt was ridding up, showing how his abdominal muscles shifted under thin material with each breath. “No.” He said, pouncing on Doumeki’s belt and flies, having them open and pulled down almost before Doumeki had registered that it was happening. “I’m not.”

 

With his own clothing he was even faster and within the next breath he had them pressed together, skin on delectable skin.

 

They both took a moment to adjust to the new sensation, Doumeki with a gasp and Watanuki with a groan. But then Watanuki found Doumeki’s right wrist and pushed it down between them. He didn’t need instructions after that.

 

Maybe he was doing more of the work, but with the way it felt to have Watanuki grinding down against him, thrusting up into his hand, he honestly did not care. Besides, that left Watanuki’s hands free to dig those bruising little fingertips against his sides, to drag fingernails softly down his chest, to finally get his fucking bow tie off so he could push away that stiff collar that had been digging into his chin.

 

Watanuki dove for the newly exposed skin of his shoulder, gnawing there as the groans were muffled into the muscles there, but with a little nuzzling and a few grunts Doumeki persuaded him into kissing his mouth instead. But even that was starting to fall apart as Watanuki’s hips stuttered against him. He caught Watanuki’s bottom lip again, anchoring him in place as his groans grew almost pained sounding and he felt wet heat against his hand and stomach. Even through Watanuki’s aftershocks he held on, keeping Watanuki where he could see the delicious way his eyes screwed shut against the pleasure. He only relented, finally released him when he felt his own climax approaching, knowing that it was either that or risk hurting him when his jaw clenched through his own orgasm.

 

It was only a few more strokes before it hit him with a shudder and a groan. Pleasure, and bliss and finally, _finally_ relief. Dimly he was aware of Watanuki propped up on an elbow, hand stroking his side as he watched him coming down.

 

By the time he was recovered enough to care about anything, all he could think of was how smug he was that Watanuki still hadn’t gone back to pick up his robe.

 

And then Watanuki was kissing at his neck, moving against his side and everything was perfect. He closed his eyes and sank into the warmth of the afterglow and affection and-

 

“Doumeki.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I want you.”

 

He smiled lazily, clean hand running over Watanuki’s back. “You’ve got me.”

 

“I want you _in_ me.” For all that Watanuki was nuzzling sweetly against his ear, it sounded much more like a demand than a request. Doumeki was hit with the dawning realization that the way Watanuki had been squirming against his side didn’t exactly scream ‘satiated’.

 

“Like, now?” He asked a little incredulously.

 

“Preferably, yes.”

 

But he wasn’t sure if he could move again in the next week let alone the next few minutes. “I don’t know if I can-”

 

There was nothing shy about the firm stroke Watanuki gave him. “Of course you can.”

 

And he was right. He could already feel how right he was. A little dazed, he nodded. “Yeah, let’s… Ok, let’s do that.”

 

He didn’t really get how Watanuki could be anything but jelly right now, but he was pulling off his shirt, wiping the mess off their stomachs and up before he had really even gotten his breath back. By the time he had sat up, Watanuki was pushing a glass of water into his hands and was half way through a cigarette.

 

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

 

What? “No. Why?”

 

Watanuki just grinned. “You’re kind of acting like one.”

 

Doumeki shrugged. “Problem?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

Watanuki left him in peace as he drank, but as soon as the glass what empty, he was putting his cigarette out in an ashtray.

 

“Bed. Naked. Now.”

 

And who could argue with that?

 

There was a moment, as Watanuki shed the last of his clothing, that Doumeki really thought about just pulling him down for another go on the couch, but Watanuki gave him an expectant look before disappearing behind the bedroom door. There wasn’t really a choice at that point.

 

He stripped carelessly, needing a few tries to get his shoe laces untied and leaving shirt and underwear littered across Watanuki’s living room floor. When he entered the bedroom Watanuki was already lounging back on the bed. With a twinkle in his eye he threw something and Doumeki caught it reflexively. He opened his hand to find a small bottle of lube.

 

Right.

 

“Well,” Watanuki teased, his chin tucking demurely into a shoulder even as his hips shifted and a toe dragged up his other calf. “What are you waiting for?”

 

Doumeki took a hesitant step forward, his knees brushing against the covers. “I don’t um…” Watanuki just raised an impatient eyebrow. “I don’t know how.”

 

Watanuki’s other eyebrow was quick to join in surprise. “Don’t know how?” He repeated.

 

“I’ve never slept with a guy before.”

 

For a moment Watanuki just frowned at him, then his head hit the pillows with a string of curses. Then he glared back up, any trace of the seductive pose he’d been hitting before, gone. “And you didn’t think to research it?” Watanuki demanded. “It’s been how many months!?”

 

“Well, I mean, I’ve seen it in porn so-”

 

Watanuki rolled away a little, pulling his legs together protectively at the idea. “No! Don’t do anything like in porn! Here,” He shifted to his knees, reaching out to take back the lube with ill grace and replace it with a foil packet. “Make yourself useful at least.”

 

Watanuki settled back on to his back but Doumeki just looked between him, the packet and then down his own body. “On me or…?”

 

“Yes on you!” Watanuki snapped in exasperation. “Obviously!” He propped a leg up, lubed his right hand and without further discussion (beside the criticisms running constant under his breath) he got to work, slipping first a finger tip past his entrance and quickly working up to fucking himself on two fingers.

 

Meanwhile Doumeki had barely gotten the condom on before he was thoroughly distracted, couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching with a grimace, like it hurt to watch Watanuki pleasuring himself like this. It was…

 

Watanuki tried to look away but just couldn’t bring himself to. It was like Doumeki was hypnotized or something and the hungry way he watched was so hot. If his body was lagging before, it had made a full recovery now. Watanuki shifted, pulling his hand away for a moment to spread his legs, letting his knees fall open this time as he reached down again, giving himself a few quick pulls before slipping down and inside again, toying with his own prostate relentlessly. He could get off just like this he thought. Smiled as he tried.

 

But Doumeki must have been able to tell and it finally knocked him out of his stupor. “Oi!” He barked, not liking the new turn things had taken.

 

Watanuki froze and his eyes shot open. “My name.” He pulled his hand out and sat up, kneeling so he had the leverage to throw Doumeki back against the mattress. “Is not.” He straddled across his hips, left hand braced against his sternum. “Oi!” He sank down in one smooth motion, grinding at the bottom for emphasis.

 

Doumeki’s body writhed from it, and a moan broke out of his throat and Watanuki knew exactly where that was headed.

 

“Oh no! Don’t you DARE come that quickly!” He ordered.

 

“Shut up!” Doumeki grabbed his hips, keeping him still. His eyes were closed tightly and he was barely breathing. “Shut up!” He hissed again. “You have to stop talking.”

 

Watanuki just bit his tongue, kept still as Doumeki struggled under him. It was at least thirty seconds before he could open his eyes again and even then it was just a quick glance.

 

“Can I-”

 

“No!” He looked away and took a deep breath.

 

“Seriously? You came like… five minutes ago?”

 

Doumeki just shrugged gingerly, arousal beating out embarrassment by miles. “It’s your own fault.”

 

Watanuki bit a lip, considering him shrewdly. “Ok, fuck it. If this is your round two, I’ll take whatever round three is.”

 

“You mean I can…” He rolled his hips tentatively and Watanuki rode it easily.

 

“Yeah but,” Watanuki shifted, moving against Doumeki’s erection at a slightly different angle. “There.” He sighed.

 

“Like this?” Doumeki thrust.

 

“Mmmm! Yeah!” He gasped happily, voice pitching up again.

 

It wasn’t any more than a few thrusts before Doumeki was coming again, and Watanuki just watched him through it, smile and the subtle way his thumb was stroking against the side of his thigh the only signs he was affected at all.

 

He groaned as Watanuki climbed off, sitting back on the bed, his own erection sitting heavy against his thigh. It was sexy. It was so undeniably erotic but Doumeki was only flesh and blood and he couldn’t give Watanuki what he wanted until his body had recovered again. He was content to breathe through the afterglow as he waited.

 

But Watanuki was getting antsy. Tentatively he stroked himself a few times before deciding against it, glancing over at Doumeki again, impatience building like a gathering storm.

 

“This is very frustrating, you know.” He finally snapped.

 

Doumeki couldn’t…

 

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

“You’re frustrated?” He demanded, rolling over so he had Watanuki caught beneath his thigh. “ _You’re_ frustrated?”

 

He sat up over the smaller man, pinning his wrists to the bed at his sides and leaning low to glare into those blue eyes. “You can not even _begin_ to know what that word means.” He could feel the whole body shiver that went through Watanuki. “I have waited.” He leaned down low, breath playing over the skin of Watanuki’s lips. “And waited.” The side of his neck. “And waited.” He took a deep breath before hissing, right over his adam’s apple. “And you gave me _nothing_ to go on.” Watanuki whimpered and the hard, wet heat against his thigh was a clear sign of how he felt about the harsh treatment. “No time limit.” Doumeki was moving lower again. “No sign if things were good or bad. For _months_.” His voice was coming out hot over his skin and his nipple was hard in anticipation were he was breathing over his chest. “So excuse me if I’m not feeling very _sympathetic_ ” and he bit the word out. “About you feeling _frustrated_.” He growled out the last of it, dipping down and licking a hot broad stripe across his chest, flicking Watanuki’s nipple with his tongue.

 

“Doumeki!” Watanuki called out, desperate as his whole body arched, but Doumeki’s hands were firm around his wrists and he wasn’t going anywhere. “Bite me!” He gasped.

 

“What?”

 

“Bite me!”

 

“Where?”

 

“Anywhere!” He was almost crying in desperation. “Please just-Ahhhh!” The teeth sank in right where he’d been teasing. Doumeki’s jaw opened wide as the teeth dug into his chest and his tongue pressed firmly against the hardened flesh, the pain and pleasure mixing into a delicious cocktail of bliss and Watanuki couldn’t find the words, just opened his throat and let the pleasure flow out how it would.

 

He barely got a respite before Doumeki had shifted to the other side, repeating the performance but this time he let go of a wrist to massage circles into the tender skin he’d just left behind. Doumeki trailed up then, his mouth leaving but his other hand coming to replace it, as he nipped along the flesh, leaving a chain of purple bruises, broken capillaries against his pale, pale skin. With effort Watanuki managed to quiet himself, holding back to just the gasps and groans that he couldn’t help.

 

Doumeki shifted up, teasing his teeth over his adam’s apple before Watanuki had a hand in his hair and was pulling him back down.

 

“I thought you said anywhere.” Doumeki chided, murmuring against the base of his throat.

 

“My collar… people will see.”

 

“But here?” He nuzzled his nose into the skin where side of the neck became shoulder.

 

“Yeah.”

 

The teeth came again, sharper now that he could bite down and Watanuki cried out, arms wrapped around him, nails digging into his back. He was moaning again, throat working like he was trying to speak and Doumeki backed off to let him.

“Dou-Doumeki. Do you- Do you think you could f-fuck me yet?”

 

The words hit him like a punch to the gut and he surged forward, growling hotly into Watanuki’s oversensitive ear. “Yes, I can fucking fuck you now! Do you have any idea how- You just- Fuck!” He pulled away. Words were failing him. Action was going to have to do.

 

He shifted back, between Watanuki’s splayed thighs and that hot, flushed erection was already leaking a thin trail down the side. Before it even occurred to him to wonder what to do with Watanuki’s legs, one hooked over his shoulder and the other around his waist, both pulling him forward urgently.

 

Doumeki’s hands were shaky as he lined up and they both groaned as he sank in. It was clumsy compared to when Watanuki had done it himself, but they panted their way through it regardless. He was barely in before he started thrusting, already lost in the delicious sensation. He tried to remember, ‘there’ Watanuki had showed him… He tried to hit the angle again. There were a few thrusts of experimentation and then the clenching around his length and the way Watanuki choked out a quiet scream let him know he’d found it. It was tight heat and slick movement and Watanuki moaning beneath him, all flushed skin and beautiful bruises and damp hair sticking to his forehead. Doumeki wanted- needed to be closer and bent down to kiss him. It was messy and clumsy. Especially as Watanuki got closer, gasping, moaning, rocking against him and then it happened.

 

Watanuki cried out against his mouth and Doumeki pulled back to watch, committing the image to memory, what Watanuki looked like as he writhed under the agony of ecstasy and following him right over that brink.

 

Doumeki was powerless to do anything but collapse on top of him. Neither of them moved. Neither of them wanted to move, really. Watanuki hadn’t felt like this since… had probably never felt like this. Doumeki was hot and heavy in him and on him and around him and his body was still just buzzing with the rush. All he could think was Doumeki. Doumeki. Doumeki.

 

The head on his chest shifted weakly to look up at him. “What?”

 

Had he been speaking out loud?

 

He pulled on Doumeki’s shoulders and they made the herculean effort of shifting on tho their sides so they could kiss, arms wrapped around each other, breath still coming heavy and mouths moving slowly. Lazily. Exhausted. Eventually even that stilled and they rested, bodies intertwined and the tips of their noses touching.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when we could get through a Seisub scene without a laundry list of trigger warnings? 
> 
> Those were the days. 
> 
> Seriously though, big red flag on this chapter. I feel like I've tagged sufficiently for this but I'm not sure so if anyone thinks I should be doing anything else please let me know?
> 
> See the end note for details.

The day had been busy. Himawari had come over early to coach the boys for their press conference. The strategy was simple enough. Confirm the rumors. Keep the tone positive. Go out and be seen acting normal afterwards. Hopefully get back to business as usual and wait to see what public opinion did. It wasn’t that hard. The journalists present were going to be mostly label allies anyway, so they weren’t expecting any difficult questions.

 

It had been a flurry of activity, but now…

 

Kurogane had taken Fai to the countryside yesterday.

 

The musicians and support staff were gone to the press conference they’d spent all day rehearsing.

 

Even Watanuki and Doumeki had left for their concert.

 

The rooms stood empty, every distraction gone, which had left Subaru alone with his thoughts, a burden he couldn’t take much longer. Seishiro had spent the day mostly locked away, but when he did appear, he treated Subaru like a stranger. He had to go fix this or go mad under the anxiety. Whatever confrontation might come, it couldn’t be worse than not knowing.

 

Subaru pulled on his coat and gloves and made the perilous trek down the hallway.

 

At the last moment, he lost his courage. He retreated around the corner, keeping Seishiro’s door out of his line of sight and slid down, back against the wall, feet extended in front of him. Even here there was a security camera looking down on him from the corner of the hall. For all he knew, Seishiro could be watching his little breakdown live.

 

Breathe. He needed to stay calm. Just breathe.

 

The elevator chimed softly. Just his luck.

 

“Fai?”

 

The blonde stepped out of the golden doors, looking just about as surprised as he was. “Subaru? What are you doing on the floor? Where is everyone?” He approached with caution, sensing his distress.

 

“They're still at the press conference.”

 

Fai sat down gingerly across from him, legs crossed. “Are you alright? What are you doing down here?”

 

“Oh, er… I was looking for Seishiro.”

 

“His office is back by the elevators.” Fai smiled gently. “This is just his room back here.”

 

“Oh.” Subaru tried to feign surprise but he was up against a master in faking it.

 

“Unless, you weren’t looking for his office.” Fai said carefully. “So those pictures... There _was_ something to it?”

 

Subaru traced the pattern of the carpet with a gloved finger. “That’s what I was going to try to find out. But then I thought, why do that when I can sit on the floor and just panic about it instead?” Fai gave a little groan of sympathy. Sleeping with your security head. Of all the people it could have been. “Is this the part where you tell me how bad this is?”

 

Fai had a hard time not feeling like his history was tattooed across his forehead with the way his reputation sometimes preceded him in certain circles. He was so paranoid about it that moments like this still caught him off guard. He had to laugh. It was a morbid laugh, but a laugh none the less. “Who am I to judge?”

 

Subaru didn’t really respond, lost in his own problems.

 

“You’re not at the conference?”

 

The direct question was enough to pull him back to reality. “No. Himawari’s idea. A 'tactical absence'.” Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully out of speculation.

 

“I see. She’s a smart woman. You can trust her to know what to do.”

 

"Yeah."

  
  
“Are you going to be ok? You can come in to talk if you want.” Fai got up and walked the few steps to his door, pulling out his key. “Or I can stay here with you.”

 

“No.” Subaru grimaced a smile, standing up as well. He should just get this over with. “I’ll be fine.”

 

"If you're sure." He didn't look satisfied but he started closing his door regardless.

 

“Fai.”

 

He paused, peeking back behind the door. “Yeah?”

 

“Everyone thought you’d be gone tonight.”

 

"So?" He didn’t understand.

 

Subaru frowned, not sure how to say it. “I don’t know when people are coming back, but they’re not coming back sober.”

 

“Ah.” Suddenly the blonde looked so tired. “Well, thanks for the warning.”

 

With a nod and a grimace Subaru walked back behind the corner, again, face to face with Seishiro’s door. He waited to hear Fai’s door close before knocking softly.

 

There were soft sounds of movement from inside and then it opened. Seishiro frowned at him and leaned against the door frame. It wasn’t an invitation. “You probably shouldn't be here.”

 

“Probably not." He agreed. And yet.

 

Seishiro crossed his arms and sighed. Last night was the first in a long time that they hadn’t spent together exploring in one way or another. “Where are we going?”

 

“Where do you want to go?” It wasn’t suggestive in the least, just tentative. Worried.

 

Seishiro didn’t look impressed.

 

Subaru cringed hard under the silence. “We should at least talk.”

 

Seishiro frowned down at him for a long moment then seemed to reach a decision. With a quick nod of his head he beckoned Subaru inside, stepping back to make space for him as he crossed threshold. As Seishiro locked the door, he took a few steps into the kitchen, heading for a chair, gathering his courage for the explanation he’d been rehearsing in his head on-and-off for the past thirty hours.

 

The fingers against the back of his neck, forcing him stomach down across the table were a complete surprise. The force was irresistible, but careful too. His cheekbone didn't sting as it connected with the wood of the table. Subaru fought for purchase on the floor but he couldn’t quite reach and only the toes of his boots scrabbled weakly on the tile.

 

“Seishiro! What are you-!?”

 

Table legs screeched against the floor as Seishiro shoved him forward a few inches further, leaving his feet to dangle uselessly in the air.

 

“Since when do we talk?”

 

Seishiro shifted his grip, pinning him down at the shoulder blade. Subaru tried to resist but it might as well have been rebar through his chest for all that he could escape. Then the hand around his neck spread, fingers coming around to engulf him in a collar of bone and muscle. They tightened warningly and Subaru fell still.

 

He should be fighting. Escaping. He knew it but there was only so much he could do against his body and the way it  remembered his conditioning. Maybe it was all the stress he’d been under or just the sheer amount of time since he’d been touched like this, but already his awareness was starting to fade at the edges.

 

A hand slid under his coat and shirt, pressing down possessively at the small of his back. Seishiro was saying something, but it sounded distant and couldn’t penetrate Subaru’s rapidly disassociating world where he had no burdens beyond surrender.

 

But even if the outside world was gone, there was still a part of him, tiny but fierce against the onslaught that was resisting. This was wrong. This wasn’t care. It wasn’t safety, no matter how much it felt like the memory of it. It was a high he’d be paying for dearly as soon as it was over. He had to speak up. He had to stop this before it got any worse.

 

He had to-

 

He-

 

But…

 

…

 

But it felt so good.

 

Me melted under the pressure, surrendered to the possession. Seishiro had taken his agency, but given him a different freedom in return and it radiated soft and bright within him. It was sex but it was satisfying a craving that ran so much deeper and so much more powerful.

 

The hand in his hair tightened again, turning his head and he moved like a doll, wherever Seishiro wanted him as he started to mummer against his ear. The words, if they were words, were lost somewhere in the jumble of a struggling cognition.

 

He watched hazily as Seishiro pulled a jacket sleeve up to the elbow. It wasn’t until Seishiro’s thumb hit his skin that he realized with a jolt, that was _his_ jacket. _His_ arm. Seishiro slid his thumb down along the back of his forearm. It was the barest of touches but to a nervous system already torn apart and drowning in endorphins it was so intense it was almost painful. His eyes snapped to attention, watching in fascination where the caress was sliding harmlessly against him but he swore he could feel it bone deep.

 

His chest tightened.

 

Someone was moaning.

 

It might have been him.

 

Seishiro nuzzled at his ear again as his thumb slid under the black leather of his glove, slipping along the back of his hand and pulling away the fabric, exposing his slender wrist. Behind him-

 

Gloves?

 

…

 

That was important. Why was it important?

 

He’d put on gloves. And a coat? He… He’d expected to go outside.

 

They were going to go outside and talk. This wasn’t…

 

They hadn’t…

 

He shouldn’t.

 

That small part of him was back, fighting through the roar of sensation to be heard.

 

This wasn’t safe.

 

He had to-

 

He needed-

 

“Stop!”

 

The hands against him stilled, then slowly pulled away. Subaru watched as the retreat left the hem of his glove disturbed. He pulled it back down brought his hands to his chest, shifting to the side and curling in on himself.

 

“Stop. You have to…” But it was quiet the second time, more to himself than anything. “Stop.” He whispered, bringing his loosely fisted hand to rest against his mouth.

 

The aftermath was equal parts relief and desolation.

 

There were no low words of comfort. No hand to gently brush the hair out of his eyes or run along his back.

 

It hurt like a fist through his stomach but at least he knew he’d made the right decision.  

 

Seishiro wasn’t safety, and he was going to have to be his own aftercare if he was going to pull out of this.

 

It wasn’t easy. By no means was it easy, but an unfortunate amount of experience with the task meant he knew how much he needed to deal with right now and how much he could afford to put off until he could get away. He didn’t know how long it took, his sense of time was always one of the first things to go, but even as he rushed it, it felt unbearably slow.

 

Shakily he pushed against the wooden surface, turning back to see Seishiro regarding him coldly from where he was still looming over the table.

 

“You stopped.” Subaru hazarded a weak smile.

 

“You told me to.” Seishiro was unreadable.

 

Subaru shifted a little on the table, rolling so he was sitting but leaning back, hesitant to get too close to the man looking down at him. He wasn’t care. He wasn’t safety. But still his body was crying out for contact. For comfort. Hesitantly he reached out a hand for Seishiro.

 

But when the man saw the movement he frowned and pulled away. “If you’re really here to talk, you can drop the act.”

 

Subaru blinked. Swallowed. “Act?”

 

Seishiro was fixing the lines of his shirt, refastening a button at his wrist. “The one where you pretend you don’t have me under your thumb.”

 

“But… you just…” He hadn’t pinned himself against the table.

 

“Yeah, and you just ignored me all day then showed up on my doorstep while no one else was around to ‘talk’.”

 

“I came tonight because… I mean, I thought you liked me.”

 

“What does it matter whether or not I feel anything for you as long as I give you what you want?”

 

Subaru wasn’t ready to keep up with this yet. By all rights he should still be curled up, listening to sweet nothings and waiting for his mind to put itself back together. As it was, it felt like he couldn’t make it to the end of one thought without stumbling and falling into another one headed in the opposite direction.

 

What he wanted?

 

Subaru watched as Seishiro dug in his pockets but came up empty. He fidgeted with his glasses instead.

 

“You’re the Star and I’m crew.” Seishiro finally said. “Dress it up however you want, but don’t think I don’t know what happens to me when you eventually get board of this.”

 

Subaru’s eyes went wide as a puzzle piece fell into place and gears that had been jammed finally started turning again.

 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t-” He scrambled to Seishiro’s side, but hesitated at the final distance. “I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured.” As confused as he was about where he was at, at least here he could be sure and sincere. “I thought you were enjoying it. If I’d have realized I never would have…” Seishiro didn’t look at him directly, but glanced out of the corner on an eye. “I’m sorry.” He repeated, laying a hand lightly on his shoulder.

 

“How could you not realize?”

 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t. It seemed so simple. I wasn’t thinking. I just…” Subaru looked up at him, distress obvious. He shouldn’t say it. Seishiro wasn’t safety. “I just like you.” Seishiro looked at him guardedly. “And not for what you can do to me.” Subaru glanced away. “ I wouldn’t use you like that. I wouldn’t-”

 

He was interrupted as a single fingertip brought his chin back up to face Seishiro’s scrutiny. “I did enjoy it…” Seishiro’s face wasn’t reassuring, but the chill was finally gone. “…what I can do to you.”

 

With a gasp Subaru was getting pushed down against the table again, Seishiro climbing over him covering his mouth with his own. A surprised whine was caught in Subaru’s throat, but there was a hand on his skin at his side and another cradling the back of his head as Seishiro invaded his mouth and it felt so good to relax into that comfort. To feel cherished in that embrace. The hand at his side slipped lower, fingertips pulling down at the waistband of his jeans. It felt good but…

 

But they still needed to talk.

 

With a reluctance he pushed away at Seishiro’s chest, separating them at half an arm’s length. “Limits. You… We need to talk boundaries and limits.” He said, voice almost even. “You didn’t even ask my safeword.”

 

Seishiro didn’t respond with the apology he’d been hoping for. “Your what?”

 

“My safeword. You can’t scene without…” Subaru trailed off when no flicker of understanding passed across his face. He tried again “Any dom needs to know if…”

 

Again nothing.

 

“You’re not…” Subaru gathered the evidence and still couldn’t really believe it. “So, you’re not into BDSM?”

 

“What, like… a fifty shades type of thing?”

 

“No! Er, I mean yes, I guess but that not really a…” Subaru took a breath. This wasn’t the conversation he’d thought he’d be having tonight. “It’s not a very realistic representation.”

 

Seishiro shrugged. “I don’t know. Never tried it.”

 

Subaru blinked “Then what do you call what we’ve been doing?” Subaru asked with a growing urgency.

 

“You seemed like you liked things rough.” Seishiro said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I was rough.”

 

“So you don’t-” Subaru had to try twice to get it out. “So you don’t have _any_ training as a dom?”

 

Seishiro looked at him strangely for a moment. “No?”

 

Subaru was struck by two things.

 

The first, the horrifying realization that he’d slipped into subspace not only without meaning to or talking about it first, but with someone who had _no_ _idea_ what he was doing or how to take care of him while he was under.

 

The second, which he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about, was that if this was what Seishiro was like when he was just acting on instinct, what would he be capable of with a little guidance? He bit his lip unconsciously.

 

But then, “You’re not like this with other people, are you?” Subaru couldn’t shake the thought of some poor soul crossing paths with him and making the same mistake. “Like… this rough or…”

 

“Why, feeling jealous?” Seishiro was finally smiling. But it wasn’t cruel. Amused, maybe. “No, you’re something new.” He answered, and Subaru let out a small sigh of relief. Seishiro seemed to misinterpret, but he did it with a teasing lilt so Subaru didn’t bother correcting him. “So you _were_ a little jealous. You must actually like me.”

 

He’d missed the point but at least they were now headed in the right direction. Subaru didn’t feel comfortable enough to repeat it but he gave a small smile and hoped that would do.

 

“But do you like me enough not to ignore me when people can see?”

 

The fledgling ease slipped away.

 

With a sympathetic frown Subaru lifted a hand to run the back of a gloved knuckle along Seishiro’s jawline. “It’s complicated.”

 

“Kamui seems to manage it.”

 

“I’m not Kamui.”

 

The hand still cradling the back of his head shifted slightly, fingertips running through his hair along his scalp. “I know.”

 

“It’s better this way.” Subaru was frowning sympathetically, shifting to run his thumb along his cheekbone. “I get enough rumors over fake affairs. Best to keep the real ones quiet. It’s safer.”

 

But Seishiro was shaking his head, then turned to nuzzle under the cuff of his glove and kiss the inside of his wrist, the scars there turning the touch into a strange mix of oversensitive and numb. “If people knew you were mine,” He looked down to catch his gaze, still speaking, lips brushing against his skin. “No one would dare touch you.” Seishiro raised his hand, interlacing his bare fingers with Subaru’s gloved ones, squeezing them lightly. “And heaven help whoever tried.”

 

It was sweet. It was flattering.

 

It was a little terrifying. It…

 

… unfortunately it was indicative.

 

“You can’t protect me from everything.”

 

“I can.”

 

It wasn’t the first time Subaru had heard that promise. He pushed back up and Seishiro let him, standing between his legs at the edge of the table, almost putting them on an even eyeline. “Even if you could, what happens when you leave?” Subaru asked.

 

“Why would I leave?”

 

“Who knows if this will work out? You barely even know me.”

 

“Know you?” Seishiro chuckled, his hands gripping under the back of Subaru’s knees, pulling him closer. “I’ve spent months studying you. I have a two hundred page background check on you is sitting in my office, and that's just the official version. I’m pretty sure I know you at this point.”

 

Subaru froze, getting a hand up on Seishiro’s chest, keeping them apart. Green eyes looked up at him. “Please tell me you know how creepy that sounds.”

 

Seishiro stopped pulling but a hand slipped up his thigh, rubbing slow circles into his flank, undeterred. He smiled, “For professional reasons, I assure you.”

 

Subaru leaned back, every so slightly, but Seishiro followed. “No, that’s…. I mean, that’s still really terrible. First it’s that, and the next thing you know you’re checking my messages and putting a tracker on my phone.”

 

Seishiro just blinked at him.

 

“You don’t…” Subaru started but the look on Seishiro’s face was enough. “Oh God, you already tagged my phone didn’t you!?”

 

Seishiro just shrugged. “It’s my job.”

 

“But I never agreed to that! Since when?”

 

“Since New York. It was in the manual." He frowned. "Didn’t you read the manual?”

 

Subaru laid back on the table, hands covering his face. Seishiro didn’t follow him but there was still a hand casually covering his left knee.

 

He huffed. “No one ever reads the manual. I even tried to make it interesting this time.”

 

Subaru sighed a defeated curse into the silence of the kitchen, then spread his fingers and glanced up with a wince from behind the gloved hands covering his face. “Two hundred pages?”

 

Seishiro crossed his arms across Subaru’s chest and laid his torso down, resting on top of him. “Two hundred and seventeen. You’ve been busy.” He smiled, tilted his head to the side. “But don’t worry. I’m sure you can catch up learning about me.”

 

“I already know you have ridiculous control issues.” Subaru winced but brought his hands down to rest gingerly in Seishiro’s hair. “That should be enough.”

 

“It’s professional. I already said.”

 

“Then take the tracker out of my phone.”

 

“But then how will I know where you are?” Seishiro was smiling, like this was a game or something.

 

“You won’t. That’s the point. You’re supposed to protect me from the stalkers, not _be_ one.”

 

“But it’s still my job.”

 

Subaru slipped his hand between them into a coat pocket and held out his phone. “Which is more important?”

 

Seishiro met his gaze, sizing him up then let out a careful breath. “Fine.” He took it, retreating to a drawer. With a deft movement of the small tool he retrieved, Subaru’s phone was open, and with an easy prying motion he removed the tracer that had been nestled against the inside of the back of the phone. “See?” Seishiro held out the open phone. “The rest is clean.” Subaru nodded. Not that he knew what the inside of a phone should look like, tampered with or otherwise. "I don't see why the phone is such a big deal." Seishiro complained, but it seemed more pout and less actual concern. "It's not like Apple doesn't already spy on you with it anyway."

 

“Two hundred pages?” Subaru asked again, resignation creeping into his manner. “Find anything interesting?”

 

Seishiro moved back to the table but it was Subaru that leaned in to close the distance between them. “I liked your boarding school uniform. You make a great catholic school boy. Any chance you still have it?”

 

“Absolutely not.” Subaru frowned.

 

“Oh?” The hands were back, running up Subaru’s thighs again. “What if I order you to? That’s what a dom does, right?”

 

“No, not really.” Subaru sighed. “I have a lot to teach you.”

 

“Like what?”

 

Subaru regarded him for a moment in contemplation, then pulled away, sitting cross legged in the center of the table, a few feet of space between them. “Here is lesson number one:" Subaru held up his index finger. "In any Dom/Sub relationship, it is the dom’s job to take responsibility for their sub’s happiness and safety, meaning you don’t do anything questionable without my consent first.”

 

“Questionable how?”

 

“Normally questionable like, ‘would Subaru enjoy this kink I’d like to try?’ but also questionable like ‘ _should I put a tracer in Subaru’s phone_?’. This weird overprotective thing stops right now.”

 

Seishiro's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “We might have a difference in opinion where the line between protective and overprotective is.”

 

“Then you talk to me. You explain why you think it’s necessary. But you don’t go behind my back about it anymore, ok?”

 

“Fine. What’s Lesson Two?”

 

Subaru smiled at him a little wanly. “Why don’t we see how well you do with Lesson One first? If you can pass that, maybe we can move on.”

 

Seishiro frowned, gesturing his impatience. "Back to lesson one then."

 

"What about it?"

 

"My responsibility is to keep you happy and safe? That's pretty vague. How am I supposed to do that?"

 

Subaru regarded him a moment, then pulled on an elbow, leading Seishiro to lay back against the table. Once he was down, he leaned over to curl up on his chest. "Hold me?"

 

Seishiro looked a little surprised but did as he was told, bringing his arms up to wrap around Subaru, petting slow strokes down his narrow back and shoulders through his coat.

 

"That's it?" Seishiro asked.

 

"For now."

 

He seemed confused. "I thought this was supposed to be whips and blindfolds. That sort of thing."

 

"Maybe someday. We'll see." Subaru melted against him, closing his eyes with a sigh. It was nice. So nice. But...

 

As he fell into the warmth he was reminded of the last time he'd felt like this, protected in someone's arms, and intertwined with that memory were reminders of the eventual split and following depression. It was stupid. He shouldn't let him self get dependent again. Shouldn't let himself get invested.

 

But it was a little too late for that, wasn't it?

 

"Subaru."

 

"Hmm?"

 

A warm hand slid up his back and rested heavy against the nape of his neck.

 

"Stop thinking so hard. Relax."

 

He let go and obeyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Something that looks like non-con that is essentially retconned into dub-con. I really wouldn't want to upset anyone, so seriously, proceed with caution. 
> 
> This scene starts off with rough dub-con that is interrupted and resolved as a misunderstanding. (Possibly not to the reader's satisfaction but at least to the participants'.) The encounter ends in a lack of aftercare that leaves Subaru kind of out of it for the rest of the chapter. It was written as less of a big deal than it was because it's coming from Subaru's perspective, but it was a very not ok thing to do. But it leads to dialog about consent and boundaries and while not everything is addressed, it moves in a positive direction. 
> 
> In fact, let's just clear this up. Any thought had by Subaru or Seishiro is probably not endorsed by the author. Even as Subaru is sticking up for himself, he's still dealing with BUCKETS of 'everything is my fault'. And Seishiro is Seishiro. While I doubt this is anyone's first encounter with BDSM, I still feel the need to say this is not how you do it.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *toots own horn* 
> 
> So there are snippets of backstory that don't really fit into this narrative but are going to be posted as part of the series. 
> 
> Keep an eye out for them if you want little easter egg scenes?  
> *w*

“It’s got to be around here some where…” Kakei muttered under his breath, gloved hands running absently along the desk ledge. The shelves were laid out across the room, papers scattered from the hurried search. Xing Huo, the owner of the apartment, or rather, the inhabitant (it was complicated) was sitting motionless on the couch as her office was torn apart. No one had made a threat against her but with the way Kakei’s heavies were sitting to her sides, no one had needed to.

 

“Ah ha!” Kakei had apparently found the concealed drawer and the button within because her bookcase shuddered and then swung open. “You could have just said.” He chided as he picked his way through the mess. “It would have saved us both time.” He was back moments later with the spool of proofs he’d come for. She hadn’t bothered trying to codify her system when her security was supposed to have been good enough to keep this from happening in the first place.

 

He popped open the small canister and unrolled a section, holding it up to the light of the window. “There’s really nothing like the feel of film in your hands, you know?” He stretched out a few more inches. “I’ve got to respect you for that.”

 

The only reason she was using it in the first place was the uncanny way that digital images seemed to disappear when Kakei wanted them to. It had also had the unforeseen perk of luring out a physical contact she could speak to, but she hadn’t exactly expected this.

 

“And the smell!” Heavy number one was speaking up now. Rumor was Kakei didn’t go anywhere without him.

 

“Right!?” Kakei brought the film down again to catch a whiff of it. “So nostalgic.” He’d found what he’d wanted and was just spooling thought the rest of the roll out of curiosity now. “You know what I miss? I miss Polaroids.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Are you even old enough to remember those?”

 

She said nothing.

 

“You know, this is a shame.” Kakei took one last look before pulling out a lighter and letting the coil burn right on top of her desk. The smoke was oily and acrid. “You’re actually a wonderful artist.”

 

“Then hire me.”

 

He waved the question away. “I’m not looking for new recruits.”

 

“Yes you are.”

 

Kakei crossed his arms and strolled to stand in front of her. “What makes you think that?”

 

“Because while else would you be here doing this yourself?”

 

Kakei raised an eyebrow and grinned. “And she’s smart too.” He frowned theatrically. “To bad you’re already employed.”

 

“You know I don’t have the resources to leave him, but with your protection-”

 

“Sir.” The heavy interrupted her.

 

Kakei held up a finger for her silence. “What is it?”

 

“Code Amber.”

 

“How bad?”

 

“Reports indicate a six verging on seven.”

 

Kakei frowned, seeming to be weighing options. “Can’t you just handle it?” There was a distinct tension of frustration to his voice.

 

The man seemed taken aback, and his tone was a little less than subservient. “Of _course_ I can handle it, but you told me you wanted to know.”

 

The rebuke had been subtle but the change in Kakei’s manner was instant. “No.” He sighed. “No, you’re right. Sorry. Thank you.” He signaled his group with a circle of his finger and they exited in neat synchronization.

 

“Hey! What about me?” Xing called after them, slipping on papers as she tried to catch up. An arm thick as a tree trunk blocked her way before she could get to Kakei.

 

He turned to address her over his shoulder. “Stay out of trouble until the next time I see you and we’ll have something to talk about.”

 

“When will that be?”

 

But he had turned away, ignoring her.

 

He had more pressing matters to attend to.

 

They had taken a separate car from the guards, so once they cleared the neighborhood, Kakei didn’t hesitate to peel off his gloves and toe off his boots. He crossed his legs and ran his bare fingers through his hair, watching the buildings pass by.

 

“You don’t think I’m overreacting, do you?”

 

Saiga glanced over at him briefly, then back at the road. “I think you should listen to your instincts.”

 

“I don’t want to get this wrong. It’s important.” But it wasn’t a revelation, just an echo. They’d had this conversation before.

 

They pulled up to a red light and Saiga took the opportunity to brush Kakei’s long bangs behind an ear and lean over for a quick kiss. He didn’t go far to mummer, “You’re doing great.”

 

“I’m not used to second guessing myself this much. I worry.”

 

Saiga bumped their noses together lightly. “If you’re worried it means you’re doing it right.”

 

Kakei smiled a little shyly, but then he glanced out the windshield. “Green light.”

 

Saiga pulled away, content that his lover looked happier than when he’d hit the brakes.

 

They rode another few blocks in silence before Saiga hit the button for the radio and _Breathing Fire_ filled the car. Kakei couldn’t help but laugh. They were getting popular enough now that hipsters were starting to pretend not to like them. Perfect timing for his next move, really.

 

Gradually the streets became more familiar and they made it home. Kakei carried in his shed clothing and traded his tan blazer for an ivory sweater wrap that was so much softer and infinitely more comfortable.

 

He took a moment to prepare in the kitchen while Saiga dealt with the preliminaries. They met going opposite directions in the hallway.  
  
“What’s the situation?” Kakei asked.

 

“Same as before.”

 

“Did you pay her before she left?”

 

“Yeah, plus an extra twenty given the circumstances.”

 

“Sounds about right.” Kakei moved to continue down the hallway, but Saiga caught his hand, pulling him close.

 

“Wha-?”

 

Saiga reached up to carefully remove Kakei’s glasses. “You almost forgot.”

 

“Oh!” Kakei watched him slip those silver frames safely into his chest pocket. “Thank you” He smiled up at him a little sheepishly.

 

“One more thing.”

 

Kakei just tilted his head, not sure what else could have slipped his mind.

 

Saiga bent down suddenly to pick up Kakei by the thighs.

 

“Hey!” Kakei scrambled for a moment but habit soon had him wrapped around his waist and shoulders.

 

Saiga turned and backed Kakei into the wall, pinning him there with his body weight so his hands were free to pet down his sides and run fingers through his hair as he kissed him soundly. All while Kakei held on to him tightly and made happy little noises of surprise in the back of his throat.

 

Eventually he pulled away, lowering Kakei back to the floor.

 

He was breathless, but smiling broadly. “What was that for?”

 

“You were looking way too serious.”

 

“I love you.”

 

Saiga smirked, obviously pleased with himself. “Are you hungry?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’ll go make lunch.”

 

“Use the pears; They’re about to go bad.”

 

“Ok.” He gestured down the hall. “Go. You’ve got this.”

 

Kakei smiled and turned, all his harsh edges from a few minutes ago successfully worn away. He walked to the bathroom door and knocked softly. “Sweetheart, can I come in?”

 

“Daddy?” A shrill voice from inside answered.

 

He eased the door open and Kohaku was instantly on their feet, arms wrapped around his knees and face buried in the side of his leg, crying with all the power those little lungs could provide.

 

“I want my Daddy!”

 

“I’m here, Angel. I’m here.” He picked them up, letting them cry into his shoulder while he waited for the tears to subside. Slowly the small back under his hand fell still and calm. He sat down on the edge of the tub and shifted the child to face him. “Kohaku, darling, what’s wrong?”

 

The toddler wiped messily at their eyes with chubby hands. “I don’t wanna brush my teeth!” It was almost enough to make them upset all over again but Kakei was quick with the soft murmuring and wiped their cheeks clean with the back of a knuckle.  


He stood up, shifting Kohaku to his left hip and approaching the sink. “But we have to brush our teeth or else how will they stay clean?”  


“No!” They looked about ready to start crying again.

 

Kakei picked up his own toothbrush in his free right hand. “Kohaku, can you help Daddy?” The child just looked at him warily. “Can you get my toothpaste, Dear?”

 

Kohaku watched him suspiciously but picked up the toothpaste, squeezing out a little when Kakei held out the brush. The he tapped the dry side of the brush against his own nose.

 

“Daddy!”

 

“Yes, Kohaku?”

 

They were looking very stern. “That’s not how you brush teeth.”

 

“Oh! Isn’t it? How about like this?” He moved the brush to his forehead.

 

“No!”

 

“Here?” Kohaku’s belly.

 

“No! In your mouth!” They poked the side of Kakei’s cheek to help demonstrate.

 

He put the brush back side down against his tongue. “Like thith?”

 

“No! Daddy, you’re not doing it right!”

 

He took the brush back out with a shrug. “Well, I’m sorry Kohaku. It’s just too complicated. You’ll just have to show me.”

 

They reached for their special brush with the glitter and brought it to their mouth.

 

“With toothpaste.” He amended.

 

Kohaku didn’t like it but Kakei was swift putting it on and they didn’t really have time to think about it before they were brushing their teeth.

 

“Oh, like that. Ok, now I understand.” They brushed their teeth together, making faces in front of the mirror. They got rinsed and dried just as Kakei’s phone sounded an alert. A text from Yuuko. “Sweetheart, do you want to go to the quiet room with Daddy?”

 

Kohaku shrieked a little in joy. “Yeah!”

 

“And what’s the rule in the quiet room?”

 

Kohaku put both chubby index fingers to their mouth. “We have to be quiet!” They whispered.

 

“That’s right, Kohaku. You are so smart!”

 

It was a complicated set up, but it didn’t take him too long before he had a feed of Yuuko’s web cam projected onto the wall and Kazahaya’s latest batch of shots on one of the large monitors. He took a quick look through the thumbnails and it wasn’t too hard to get an idea of what had happened, but couldn’t fathom how or why.

 

On the opposite wall the banks of TVs were dark in disuse.

 

“Yuuko Darling, how are you?”

 

“I’m good! I’m wonderful! I’m maybe still a little drunk.” She was still in the process of letting her hair down. It took a while. There was a lot of hair to let down. “And you?”

 

“Oh, another day in paradise.” Kohaku was starting to fuss in his lap and he let them down on the floor.

 

“Why won’t you let me see your feed? It’s very cruel, you know. I’m letting you see me.” Over her shoulder the dog was curled up on the couch, almost sleeping but checking on her every time her voice got too excited.

 

“Sorry, Yuuko. Bad hair day. I’d die of shame if you saw me. So inconvenient.”

 

“No…” She said shrewdly, throwing a purple M&M in her mouth. “You’re hiding something.”

 

He glanced down where Kohaku had found their crayons and paper, considering his options. He rustled a few magazines and hit his palm against the desk. “Ah~! Saiga stop! I’m trying to work!”

 

On the wall Yuuko’s grin grew lecherous. “Ha! I knew it.” She shifted, sitting on the side of a hip, movement ever so slightly unsteady. “Look, normally I’d give you all the time you needed, but I think if we don’t do this right now I will actually fall asleep on you.”

 

His voice fell back to a normal pitch gradually. “Sorry. Yes, we’ll try to behave over here.”

 

“Or you could just put the video through. It might wake me up.” She teased.

 

“No, no. You’re right. To business.” He pulled up the first shot as the program he was using did the same for Yuuko in Japan.

 

It was pretty par for the course club photography. He’d researched the place and its interior, but really all you could see was the press of bodies and a few tables all lit by streams of multicolored lights. In the center of the picture was Kamui and a carefully anonymous man getting into eachothers' faces. So far, all according to plan. The next was the aftermath of the punch, Kamui’s arm extended and the man reeling, holding his face. Good.

 

But then, the next was essentially the same but the man was looking up, and over his shoulder the photograph showed Kamui’s face, wide-eyed and his mouth in a perfect o.

 

The next was Mr. Anonymous's fist connecting with Kamui’s cheek and nose.

 

“Yuuko, what the Hell happened?”

 

“So… you see, at this point we’d had a little to drink. And Kamui was so excited. Honestly, we’d practiced and everything but when the time came …”

 

Behind him the door opened silently and Saiga entered with two plates, handing one over. Kakei muted their mic as Yuuko relayed the story of Kamui accidentally punching his stuntman.

 

“Oh, Honey, Kohaku already ate.”

 

“I know. That’s for you.”

 

Kakei poked at the food. “You made me dino nuggets?”

 

“And pears.” There were more chairs in the room but he settled on the floor instead, inspecting the toddler’s drawings. He offered a nugget to Kohaku, and they accepted, but didn’t eat it. Just held it, forgotten in one tiny hand, while they got back to business with their crayons.

 

“If I cue you, you’re ravishing me, ok?” Kakei warned.

 

“Like for real or…”

 

Kakei just gave him a look and held a finger up to his mouth. Kohaku patted his knee and very earnestly whispered, “Koku, shhhh!” Saiga held up a finger to his own mouth and nodded at the child who, satisfied, went back to their drawing.

 

“… so you see it was all just a misunderstanding and no harm done.” While he’d been looking away he’d missed Yuuko changing out of her dress and into the floral robe.

 

“One of your guys still punched one of my guys.”

 

“Yeah but then your guy punched my guy.”

 

“Not the point.”

 

She sighed. “Ok, I’m sorry alright?” But her deference was short lived. “I love it when you get all mama bear like this.”

 

He tabbed through a few more pictures: The fight escalating. Kamui’s bloody nose. There was one that showed his agent’s face. He sent a copy to his private server and sent out a worm that would hunt down and delete any others, starting with this and Kazahaya’s computers but anywhere else it might conceivably end up too.

 

There was a particularly good one of both men getting held back, Fuuma restraining his band mate by the arm and shoulder and Kamui bright eyed and grinning, blood dripping down his chin and staining his teeth.

 

There was tomorrow’s cover shot.

 

Kohaku got Saiga’s attention, who in turn got Kakei’s. Kakei hovered his hand over the mic switch and beckoned for something from Saiga.

 

“Hey Kakei.” He let a little gravel into his low voice and Saiga hit the switch.

 

He turned and blinked. “‘Hey Kakei’? That’s the _best_ you can do? Yuuko’s going to think my standards are so low.”

 

“Well, seeing as how _our child_ is in the room, yes, I think that’s the best you’re getting right now.”

 

Kakei sighed. He had a point. “What is it Kohaku, Sweetie?”

 

They were standing now, trying to see the screen clearer so Kakei pulled them back on to his lap. They pointed the dino nugget at the screen, worried. “He got hurt?”

 

Kakei could feel his heart squeezing. Every parent thought they had the cutest baby in the world, but he might have the _actual cutest baby_ in the whole world. “No, Sweetie. See? He’s smiling. It’s ok.” They didn’t look entirely convinced so he pulled over the tablet, drawing Kamui glasses and a mustache to make them giggle. Worked every time.

 

Once everyone was quieted down again he switched the mic back on and Yuuko just looked at him with a knowing smirk as she pretended to inspect her nails, then after spotting a chip in the polish, actually inspecting her nails. “Yes if you’re entirely finished… You haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

 

Kakei kept tabbing forward. Fight. Fight. Restraint.

 

Oh.

 

Making out on the table.

 

Drunken, bloody table make outs.

 

With at least sixty witnesses.

 

In fucking Japan of all places.

 

Oh joy.

 

“Yuuko, the whole point of this was to get people to stop thinking of them as just gay.”

 

“I know, but look at them!”

 

He sighed. They were good pictures. Hot. Definitely hot but, more than that it was so … them.

 

The shots were good too. One from a bird’s-eye-view of Fuuma’s back and their faces turned to each other in profile against the table. He imagined Kazahaya rushing in to scale the table to get the shot. In fact… Yeah, there at the edge of the frame was the tip of his sneaker. He must have been standing, straddled over the couple.

 

There were a few more and ultimately one at a low angle, almost even with the table surface, light streaming down and hitting the glasses, coloring and bending the light at the bottom of the shot while the light itself drew lines in the smoke of the club, drawing the eye down to where it looked like Fuuma had caught Kamui’s bottom lip as Kamui growled back at him, blood still running down his cheek and into his hairline by his ear. It wasn’t perfect, and no one looked their best at 3 am, but with a little Photoshop…

 

Based on the bottles and the angle of the light, he reckoned how close Kazahaya must have been to get the shot. He tried to imagine the Kazahaya he’d known in LA being that assertive.

 

“Good to know my trainee is getting over his shyness.”

 

Kohaku was getting fussy again, so Saiga stood and plucked them out of his lap, wandering away to entertain them.

 

Yuuko laughed. “Oh god, you have no idea. He gets so bossy now. I love it.”

 

He flipped back to the photo they’d be using tomorrow and started writing notes to the writers and editors about what he wanted, as well as some editing he wanted done to the photo itself.

 

“Speaking of assistants,” Kakei smiled as he worked. “I hear whispers of your part-timer.”

 

“Oh?” Yuuko asked, Cheshire grin plain on her face. “If you like the whispers, you’ll love the moans.”

 

He had to set down the stylus in surprise. “You’re kidding.”

 

“Nope, we share a wall. Consider that rumor confirmed.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“Since somewhere between 6 hours and twenty minutes ago. I don’t know, I just got home.”

 

“Well, congratulations. Be sure to invite me to the wedding.”

 

They only talked a short while longer, trading news and rumor, before Yuuko excused herself for some well-earned rest. And Kakei, nothing if not efficient, was done with his side of the work mere minutes after the conversation ended.

 

When he pushed back his chair, Saiga didn’t hesitate before his firm hands were on his shoulders, rolling muscle and massaging out knots. He relaxed into the touch, his head falling back against the chair to look up.

 

“You seem stressed.” Saiga commented.

 

“Mmmm… not anymore.” He grinned. “Marry me?”

 

Saiga smiled. “Again?”

 

“Everyday.” He reached up to draw them together for an upside down peck on the mouth. A hand on his knee kept it from becoming anything more.

 

“Maybe can we go to the park?” Kohaku asked.

 

Kakei picked them up, setting them in his lap. “The park?”

 

Behind him Saiga bent down, wrapping his arms around his shoulder. “A neighbor dog had puppies. They’ve been bringing them to the park around this time in the afternoon lately.”

 

“Oh,” Kakei said, one hand on Kohaku’s back and the other coming up to squeeze Saiga’s forearm. “Well, we should probably go to the park then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine with me if you would:
> 
> Before settling on 'Daddy', Kakei desperately trying to teach Kohaku to say 'Kakei'.
> 
> "Kakei."
> 
> "Kuuuh."
> 
> "Kakei"
> 
> "Kah."
> 
> "Yes! Yes. So close! Kakei!"
> 
> "Kaka!"
> 
> "No.... no, not that."
> 
> "Kaka. Kaka!"
> 
> *gets dirty looks from all the bilingual parents.*
> 
> Kakei, looking to the heavens: What is life? Why me? What did I do to deserve this?


	40. Chapter 40

“Hey~, lazy hunk of person taking up my bed,” The voice, for all it’s choice of words, was gentle, lilting a little musically. “Time to wake up.”

 

So that’s what Watanuki sounded like when he was trying to be quiet.

 

Doumeki came to slowly, surfacing from a deep, deep sleep. He was still groggy. They’d spent a lot of time last night not sleeping. For the first obvious reason but also for the second that neither of them were in the habit of sharing a bed and kept waking each other up with every unconscious shift or movement. They probably could have rested better if they’d tried sharing a little less body contact, but that wasn’t an option either of them had been willing to consider. He blinked up blearily. Watanuki was sat over his waist, smiling down at him softly, shoulders wrapped in the dark silk of a robe.

 

“Good morning.”

 

“Hey.” Doumeki wiped a hand across his eyes. “You’re up already?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Perfect. Make me breakfast?”

 

With a sharp inhale and indignant eyes, Doumeki watched his boyfriend ( _boyfriend!_ ) shift into what he thought of as ‘normal Watanuki’.

 

“I didn’t _make_ you breakfast.” He crossed his arms at his chest. “I made _myself_ breakfast and happened to have extra which I am being generous enough to share with you.”

 

Doumeki spotted the tray on the bedside table. A waffle with artfully drizzled syrup and a touch of powdered sugar. A small bowl of berries and melon. Coffee.

 

Doumeki blinked back up at him.

 

“You made me breakfast in bed.”

 

Watanuki scowled. “Were you listening just now? I just told you this is leftovers! This is not some- Ahh!”

 

Doumeki pushed himself up and Watanuki flailed as the hips he’d been sitting on moved, depositing him on the mattress while Doumeki’s thighs shifted to either side under his own. Then, irregardless of the squawks and flails, Doumeki gathered the smaller man into a tight hug, rendering him breathless in a very literal sense.

 

“This is the best thing I have ever woken up to.” And he once was surprised with a trip to Disneyworld.

 

Watanuki pushed back on his chest and he let him go.

 

“It’s just a waffle!”

 

“No.” He ran a hand through the side of Watanuki’s hair, giving him a significant look before pulling him in for a firm kiss. He was surprised at first, moving stiffly in his arms, but as the sensation sank in, he eased against him. Just as fingertips hit Doumeki’s bare chest he pulled away, leaving Watanuki on the comforter as he sat back against the headboard and moved the tray to his lap.

 

“Hey! What do you-?”

 

“I don’t want this to get cold.”

 

Watanuki took a deep breath, winding up for an impressive rant, no doubt, but Doumeki was faster, popping a berry from his breakfast into that open mouth before he could begin.

 

“This is really good.” He said, speaking around a mouthful of waffle.

 

Watanuki huffed and turned up his nose. “Of course it is.” The movement exposed the long line of Watanuki’s pale neck. And some obvious light pink bruising that had been left behind. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

Doumeki winced. “Sorry. I thought I was being careful enough but I think I left you some hickies.”

 

“Oh?” Watanuki's grin was macabre. “You think _that’s_ bad?” He drew his hand back along one shoulder of his robe, causing it to fall away, answering Doumeki’s idle question of whether he was wearing anything underneath (no) and also showing him… well…

 

Watanuki was always pale and the blood under his skin stained with varying vibrancy depending on the extent of the damage: anywhere from the soft pink of his neck to the green/yellow halo-ed red of the fingertip bruises on his thighs and hips. But nothing, _nothing_ compared to the angry wine-purple destruction that he’d left across Watanuki’s chest and shoulders.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Doumeki could spot individual teeth marks.

 

Watanuki hesitated, tempted to give Doumeki a hard time while he had the excuse to, but in the end honesty won out. “No.” He let the memory of pleasure slip into his manner. None of the heat but all of the satiation. He would get the message. “Don’t be.”

 

Doumeki took a relieved sip of coffee.

 

Then he laughed.

 

“What?” Watanuki asked.

 

“I came in for coffee and I’m finally getting it.”

 

Watanuki rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath and fussing with the tie on his robe.

 

“Don’t.” Doumeki said lowly.

 

“What?”

 

“Leave it open.” His eyes traced the line of his body from collarbone to knee.

 

Watanuki tied it shut with a look. “ _I_ am going to go take a shower. If _you_ can eat and drag your sorry self out of bed in time to join me, _then_ you may gaze upon the elegant visage that is my nakedness for a few more minutes. Otherwise I need to get ready to work.”

 

Watanuki didn’t wait for him but he couldn’t have been more than a minute behind. Getting out of bed was the hardest part. His neck. His legs. His back. Everything was stiff. The heat of the shower was a welcome relief.

 

“Are you ok?”

 

Watanuki seemed surprised by the question. “Yes?”

 

“Because _I’m_ sore, but…” But Doumeki hadn’t even been the one bruised, bent and bitten last night. The evidence lay all along Watanuki’s body, which of course he was taking the time to observe and appreciate. That had been the whole point of getting out of bed.

 

Watanuki seemed to catch his meaning and it burned crimson across his cheeks. “I’ll be fine. I mean, I can definitely feel it, but it’s not a bad sore if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“Even…” Doumeki reached out to trace the base of his spine, but Watanuki swatted him away.

 

“Yes, even there.” Watanuki spoke hurriedly, like he didn’t want to talk about it. Water dripped off his hair and onto his shoulders as he left the spray to find his shampoo.

 

Doumeki thought showers were never as sexy as they should be. It was all there in theory, but in practice it was a lot of getting chilly while you waited around for the other person to rinse off. But it did have its charms. Watanuki fussed as Doumeki’s hands joined his own to work shampoo through his hair.

 

“What are you-!?”

 

“Helping.”

 

Watanuki grumbled but let his own hands fall away, letting Doumeki massage his scalp for longer than was probably strictly necessary. After that was over Doumeki’s hands were back with a lathered up washcloth, and Watanuki let him run it along his skin, quiet and more than a little shy. His arms. His shoulders. Back then chest. There was a moment of hesitation as Doumeki’s hands reached his waist and Watanuki snatched the cloth for himself, finishing quickly before making his excuses and stepping out to find his towel.

 

Doumeki didn’t complain but… “Hey,” He pulled back a few inches of the curtain to find Watanuki’s leg propped up on the counter as he dried off his shin. He was staring at him, already defensive. “I’m hard. Do you want to do anything?”

 

“No!” Watanuki said sharply. “I already told you I’m getting ready for work. Why would you even ask so bluntly like that!?”

 

“I can just take care of it myself but I thought I’d offer.”

 

“‘Take care of it’?” Watanuki repeated. “You’re going to jerk off in my shower?” He didn’t seem to like the idea.

 

Doumeki wondered if he was missing something. “Yes?” Was there an alternative or…? “Did you want to watch?”

 

“No!” Watanuki scowled but Doumeki didn’t stick around to hear that rant. He retreated, back into the warmth of the water. Well, his loss. He braced a hand against the shower wall and wrapped the other around himself.

 

The shower curtain hooks clinked against the rod as Watanuki pulled it back a little more. “You’re kind of being perverted, you know.” He frowned. “I’m in the room and everything.”

 

For the love of- “I have literally been inside you.” Doumeki said over his shoulder. “Is masturbating in your shower _really_ going to be an issue?”

 

Watanuki sputtered but seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say. “Just be sure to clean it off when you’re done, ok?”

 

“Ok!”

 

Watanuki gave one more worried glance before closing the curtain again. He was dressed by the time Doumeki turned off the water and emerged, looking clean and satisfied.

 

“That was quiet.” Watanuki said accusingly as he set his glasses on his nose.

 

Doumeki just shrugged and toweled off his hair.

 

Watanuki probably thought he was being subtle as he gravitated toward the shower, making sure it was spotless. It must have passed muster because he didn’t complain beyond a critical glare. “Are you just going to stand there naked all day?”

 

Doumeki turned to hang up his towel, and caught the reflection of his back in the mirror. Long faint red scratches arched across his shoulders. He paused at the sight of it, brought a hand up to trace along one as far as he could reach, then tried to catch Watanuki’s eye.

 

The young man in question was doing an admirable job of being occupied with anything else. “Your phone went off while I was changing.” He held it out, still not looking at him.

 

“Who was it?” Doumeki didn’t move.

 

“How should I know?”

 

He reached out and took it then. “Himawari.”

 

And _that_ sure got Watanuki’s attention.

 

“She talks to you!?”

 

Well, yeah. But that wasn’t the point right now. “There’s a PR meeting apparently. I’ve been invited.”

 

“Why!?”

 

He shrugged. “I am a journalist. Maybe they want advice?” He caught Watanuki’s reflection in the mirror. “You might want to find something with a higher collar.”

 

“I’ll have you know Himawari is a perfectly capable, nay, highly talented professional and does not _need_ advice from the likes of you.” Doumeki didn’t really take it personally. Watanuki’s insults felt more automatic at this point and he doubted he actually meant any of them anymore. “In fact- Wait. My collar?”

 

“They’re meeting in Yuuko’s room. I assume that’s where you’re headed too?”

 

“They’re there right now?”

 

“That’s what it looks like from the text.”

 

Watanuki shifted to wedge himself between the counter and the door, getting an ear on the wall he shared with his boss. “My sweet! What light through yonder drywall breaks?” But try as he might, the insulation was too thick to hear anything.

 

When he pulled away, Doumeki was just looking at him with that small, amused smile of his.

 

“What?” He glared.

 

“I think you might not get Romeo and Juliet.”

 

“I understand it just fine, you oaf! Go get changed and I’ll meet you in there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Watanuki. He and other Watanuki's like him can't make it to the end of their sentences. But you can help. For only 50 cents a day, you can make a difference in the life of a Watanuki. Please, give generously.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the humble author's guilty pleasure ship causes a few ripples in the water.

The car ride back into the city had been blessedly silent, letting him stew in peace. But this elevator music…

 

It could be worse, he supposed. It could have been _his_ music.

 

He and Fai had never had a fairy tale romance. Well, ok, maybe they did if you meant the old-school original fairy tales, not the sanitized versions people told kids today. Beyond the Honeymoon phase those first few months, things weren’t easy. The first time they’d broken up he’d learned just how hard it was to forget a musician. All the affectionate little jingles and melodies that Fai had written for him, annoying as they were at the time, were little stabs at his heart that would resurface unbidden and unwelcome for months after the blonde had disappeared.

 

Then there was the added insult of hearing his work wherever he went. Fai was just working his way up the ladder back then. Thanks to his connections with Yuuko, he had a few ‘real’ songs playing on the radio, but there had also been the little things he’d done before that to keep a roof over his head. Back when the 'starving artist' title was coming uncomfortably close to literal. He'd written jingles for local ads on the TV and radio. Scored a few cheap independent movies, one of which kept playing a trailer on Kurogane's favorite channel, forcing him to find something else to watch whenever it came up. And when the chance came up for Fai to put his lounge background to work, he had been weirdly enthusiastic to get to write elevator music. There was no escaping that one. There were _a lot_ of elevators in New York.

 

Point being, even as he was trying to forget the blonde, try as he might, he’d hear Fai over the loudspeaker or in his own mind, and he wasn’t sure which type of reminder was worse.

 

It wasn’t as bad anymore but to hear Fai’s melodies while he was in a mood like this…

 

…to be reminded of all the lies and betrayals their history held…

 

The music in the elevator, with it’s cheery beat and mellow phrases, did nothing but piss him off even more, but at least it wasn’t Fai’s elevator music.

 

The doors dinged his release and he all but tumbled out. He took a moment to collect himself in the blessedly empty common area. He needed to calm down. What would be the point of coming home early if he just stared another fight?

 

Deep breaths. Calm thoughts. You love him. You love him.

 

Voices drifted down the hallway from Yuuko’s open door.

 

“It’s not even a question of ‘want to’. Which I don’t, not that anyone seems to be asking. I’m already contracted to Rolling Stone.”

 

“Don’t consider that an obstacle. You’d be surprised what a few friends in the right places can do to make non-compete clauses disappear.”

 

Yuuko still hadn’t settled that? He’d drawn up the contract back in SF.

 

“Doumeki, can we be honest for a second?” He’d forgotten Himawari was on her way. Apparently she was already on to task number two, and it sounded like she was going in for the kill. “I think I know what’s really bothering you. I know you’re worried about your integrity. But the book is what you make it. If you don’t want to write gossip, then don’t. But they’re the same musicians you wrote your ‘Stones’ piece on. There’s got to be something of merit here. And if your people are going to turn their noses up at the publisher, you've got the power to write something that will prove them wrong.”

 

There was a silence and, with mixed feelings, Kurogane realized how intently he’d been listening. On one hand, it was a stressful conversation and he felt himself getting pulled into the anxiety of it. On the other hand, anything that let his mind back off of his anger at Fai was a good thing.

 

Kazahaya spoke softly. “If it helps, you can come with me when I shoot. Tell me what to look for. Start steering things in a different direction if that makes you more comfortable.”

 

Again, tense silence.

 

Alright, that was enough. He stood, duffel bag over his shoulder to approach his own room.

 

To find it neatly in order. Bed made. Kitchen clean.

 

And empty.

 

Instantly a knot formed in his stomach, but he did his best to ignore it. Fai might be out for coffee or something. (Before noon? When he didn’t have to be? Yeah right.)

He texted Fai again. He’d been getting the silent treatment since he’d stormed off yesterday morning, but he hadn’t thought anything of it until now. There was no trace of his return in their rooms. His bag was still missing. One of his jackets was where he’d left it on the couch.

 

He strode back to Yuuko’s open doorway.

 

“…and I want final say of content, and an editor of my choosing…”

 

If Doumeki was negotiating terms, he was as good as signed. Normally he would take the time to be impressed with Himawari’s victory but-

 

“Hey!” He barked. Five sets of surprised eyes hit him. Apparently they hadn’t noticed him pass the first time. “Where’s Fai?”

 

“Kurogane? But you-“

 

Yuuko cut Watanuki off. “We haven’t seen him. Why?”

 

“He was supposed to be back yesterday.” And he was gone again, back to their rooms, the worst case senarios running through his head.

 

It wasn’t like Fai was above a sudden walk out, but not with where they were at right now. He’d fucked up when he’d grabbed his wrist like that, he knew, but Fai didn’t leave over things like that. Had he even made it to Tokyo? What if he’d gone out last night? Hadn’t made it home? Or made it home with someone else?

 

No. He wouldn’t-

 

Fai could be a self-destructive drunk. Maybe he’d been too quick to buy people drinks. Too generous with the amounts. Too obvious about his wealth.

 

He tried not to imagine Fai knocked out in a back alley somewhere, phone and wallet gone. Lost and trying to find help in a language he could barely understand.

 

He needed to check his credit card history. Find out where he’d been and if anyone else had used it. They still kept separate passwords and accounts but if he could get the police involved they’d be able to-

 

He froze.

 

The drawer to their desk in the bedroom was ajar.

 

Even as he pulled it open he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. Fai’s passport was gone. In its place, the key for this apartment off his key ring.

 

Wherever Fai was, he wasn’t in Japan anymore.

 

He looked down at the phone in his hand.

 

Gone without a single word of warning.

 

He threw the phone and he was almost disappointed when it hit the curtain instead of smashing through the glass of the window.

 

The desk chair tumbled across the room moments later.

 

Yuuko appeared at his bedroom door. “Kurogane?”

 

Then he pulled the lamp down, crashing into the floor.

 

“Kurogane!”

 

“He’s gone!” He hissed.

 

Her troupe of underlings weren’t far behind.

 

“Maybe he went to go see Syaoran and the girls?” Watanuki offered soothingly.

 

“No.” Tomoyo had been texting him nonstop about her research the past few days. She would have mentioned it. He stalked to his bathroom. Wanting to calm down. Wanting to wash his face and regroup. Wanting privacy. “Get out.”

 

“We just want to help.” Yuuko seemed to be busy with something, leaving it to Watanuki to try and talk everyone down. “You’re kind of scaring us a little.” He smiled. Gave that uneasy laugh of his.

 

“Then maybe you should take a hint and leave me alone!” Kurogane towered over Watanuki as he said it, distracted from his goal. This wasn’t calming down. This was… well, the opposite really.

 

Things didn’t get better when Doumeki put himself between the two of them. “Don’t threaten him.” Doumeki said, all defense and understated bravado and fucking misplaced stupid chivalry. He needed space and this idiot was butting into things he didn’t understand, getting in his face and-!

 

Kurogane’s fist connected with the wall. Neither survived in one piece.

 

“I said out!” Kurogane roared, and Watanuki, with the help of Himawari on the other elbow finally got Doumeki to back down. He’d barely taken a breath before Yuuko had taken his place.

 

His first instinct was to take her on too, but the look on her face was calm, enough to make him give pause. She wasn’t a threat.

 

She didn’t say anything but raised her hand, showing him her phone screen. He’d recognize Fai’s number anywhere. And the call had connected. He took a slow breath, tension bleeding out of him. Yuuko just nodded. Gingerly he took the phone. Held it up to his ear.

 

“Yuuko? Hello? Don’t leave me talking to myself like a crazy person here~.”

 

“Fai!” If Kurogane’s voice broke, he was past caring.

There was a gasp on the other end of the line. Then a quiet, “Kurgy?”

 

“Fai! Are you ok?”

 

“Yes. Yes, everything is fine.” Fai seemed confused.

 

“I came back to see you. I came back to Tokyo.”

 

Then, a dawning understanding. “Oh, Kuro… I’m sorry. I thought you were going to stay with your parents for a few more days?”

 

“You weren’t here.”

 

“I know. I just… I needed some space. You understand, right? I would have told you sooner. I didn’t realize.”

 

With a signal Yuuko ordered the onlookers away, following herself after a last glance over at Kurogane. Finally, privacy.

 

“Where are you?”

 

There was a painful pause. “New Zealand.”

 

Kurogane’s teeth grit but he didn’t let a sound travel over the phone.

 

“Are you mad?” Fai asked, his voice tiny.

 

Kurogane picked absently at the cracks in the drywall, willing the tightness out of his throat. “No.”

 

“Are you ok, Kuro?”

 

Like the bloody cracks over his knuckles. “Yeah.”

 

“Are _we_ ok?”

 

Kurogane sighed, turning and stepping over the detritus to sit by the window. “Of course we are. You did what you had to, right? I can’t be mad about that. Just… just let me know next time alright? I was worried.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Then with a brittle chuckle, “At least I didn’t drink.”

 

“Yeah, you just… fled the country instead.” Kurogane gave a hallow bark of a laugh, the least he could do to let Fai know he was just shocked, not actually critical. Or at least not in the way Fai was worried about.

 

The tension was broken, but they still felt raw and knew to handle each other gently.

 

Fai’s usual lilt was only barely there when he said, “Ashura says ‘Hi.’”

 

Red eyes blinked slowly, unseeing. “How are the kids?” He was trying hard for normal conversation.

 

“So tall.” Fai’s voice hitched.

 

“Fai… Do you want me to come get you?” Kurogane offered hesitantly.

 

“No.” The answer was immediate but he did his best to soften it. “I mean, what would be the point of getting space if I didn’t actually stay to get it, right?” Years ago something so frank might have offended him, but they’d been working on honesty. Tact might come later. “Stay in Japan. Enjoy yourself.”

 

‘How can I enjoy myself if I’m worrying about you the whole time?’ It was what Kurogane wanted to say but it was also textbook what their therapist had been telling him not to do. “Sure.”

 

“I’ll see you in Sydney. In time for your Birthday, ok?”

 

Sydney? That was more than two weeks away. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

 

“Kuro…” Fai seemed to hesitate. “I’m sorry. Maybe I didn’t do the right thing, but… I love you. You know that right?”

 

Despite himself something settled in his stomach. “Of course I do. I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Care for a short glimpse into Fai's mysterious past?  
> This would be a good time to read "Places Where We Dare Not Speak", which should be listed as part three of this series. I've been very excited to get into his backstory and I've been looking forward to posting this for a long time. <3


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, can we talk real quick? Here, sit down, have some tea. 
> 
> I love Subaru. And I love Seishiro. And I think they are making some real progress, and I see a lot of happiness in their futures. 
> 
> But...
> 
> I mean, we're all CLAMP fans here, right?
> 
> There are certain cosmic forces at work here that are beyond my control. 
> 
> So... anyway... *winces* ... here's your next chapter, guys~. 
> 
> (Specific TW in the end note)  
> (Also, continuing warning that this is not a BDSM guide and some stuff here isn't realistic or advisable.)

Subaru wondered how much longer he would have the simple luxury of walking down the street. Already there were certain places that he and his band mates knew to avoid in New York, and they had certainly been caught off guard in LA. But apparently they weren’t famous enough to be mobbed by fans in Japan yet. Or maybe Japanese people were just more polite? In any case, no one had spared him a second glance as he walked down the sidewalk, guitar on his back and Seishiro hovering like a hawk at his shoulder.

 

“How about this one?” He asked.

 

A simple chain link fence and a plastic tarp was all the barrier between them and the building beyond. A bright yellow sign was warning them of… something.

 

“What do these characters mean?” Subaru’s Japanese was decent but his vocabulary wasn’t very broad.

 

Seishiro took a closer look. “Hard hat.”

 

“This is a new building?”

 

“We can keep looking.”

 

The site looked deserted. And there was cover to enter back at the last alley they’d crossed. “No. I like this one.”

 

A simple leg up had Subaru over the fence without even needing to take off his guitar. Seishiro was only moments behind.

 

It was strange. Subaru was used to the abandoned. The derelict. New construction… It was all harsh angles. Endless expanses of concrete. As they neared, he saw there weren’t even stairs between the levels that stacked towards the sky. A half assembled fire escape started half way up, clinging to the side of the building like a parasite. It gave him such an uneasy feeling, like some god had created the idea of a building, but left it utterly inaccessible. Or like when you slipped off the map in a video game and what had felt so real turned out to be pixel-thin illusion.

 

“How do the workers get up?”

 

Seishiro indicated a worn looking metal box just around a corner. “Construction elevator.”

 

“Why not just build the stairs?”

 

“They don’t get added until later.” He pointed toward the partially assembled flights bolted into the side of the concrete. “Those are a safety back up, but they’re temporary.”

 

“How is a staircase to nowhere safe?”

 

He shrugged. “They must be in the middle of installation.”

 

There was a shuffling and the tell-tale hiss of a spray paint can from the level above. A short survey found the artist's ladder. Seishiro was easing his way forward but Subaru caught his arm, holding him back. “They’ve got just as much right to be here as we do. Let’s just leave it?”

 

Seishiro didn’t look pleased with the idea but he nodded, giving his attention back to the elevator. “Want to go up?”

 

As they passed the first level, he got a glimpse of something. There was a lot of red and black and geometric shapes. He wasn’t sure he understood the point. All graffiti was somewhat transient. Even the famous pieces back in Berlin were littered with tags and only annual repainting kept them recognizable. But to tag something under construction? The consequences should they be caught were so much greater, and for what? Anything painted on the concrete was just going to be covered in floor boards and carpeting. “Can you imagine? All the office workers that are going to cross that floor, not knowing a work of art is under their feet.”

 

“Doctors.”

 

“What?” Subaru turned to look at him. Seishiro was intent on the controls but he spared a glance at him. It was a very small metal box.

 

“I think it’s a hospital.”

 

“That was on one of the signs?”

 

“No… just the lay out. I’m guessing.” His hand eased off a lever and they shuddered to a stop, a few inches above the concrete of the floor they’d stopped on.

 

“Oh.” Subaru waited for Seishiro to open the metal grating of the door before stepping down.

 

They wandered a bit. As much as one can wander when walking on a ten foot tall open expanse between two massive slabs of concrete. The wind was chilled but the view…. magnificent.

 

Eventually Subaru felt the urge and pulled his guitar around. Seishiro paused, knowing this moment had been coming, having anticipated it all day. Subaru caught the edge of a finger of his glove between his teeth, pulling it off carefully. Then the other. Seishiro held his hand out and they were given over. They met eyes silently for a moment before Subaru turned his attention back to the strings in his hand. He pulled a pick out of his back pocket.

 

He fingered a chord and drug his hand decisively down the strings. The sound spread, clear and heavy. It wasn’t the best acoustics he’d ever heard, but it was undeniably unique, which, to be honest, was what he’d rather find on excursions like this.

 

He played like that for a long time. Old melodies and hummed tones. He didn’t bother with lyrics today. There would be more than enough words soon enough. Now was just relaxation. Something familiar to put them both at ease. So he played. Long and meandering, until eventually, it just felt right to stop.

 

The sound didn’t echo as it died, just slid off the smooth concrete unimpeded, escaping into the ether.

 

“Do you think the stairs are safe?” It wasn’t that cold, but given the choice, Subaru would rather sit in the sunlight.

 

“Let me check.” Seishiro carefully assessed the stairway. It wasn’t exactly his specialty but it wasn’t that hard to identify the bolts keeping the stairs held in place and making sure everything was locked into place. Even so he stepped out gingerly to take his place on the grated surface. There were a few more vigorous yanks on railings and steps before he was satisfied. “I think we’re good.”

 

Subaru stepped out to join him. They walked up a flight, Seishiro settling halfway up the steps while Subaru hung back, leaning against the hand rail of the landing, letting the sun hit his cheeks.

 

Tokyo Tower was beautiful. So very, very red.

 

“Well?” Subaru asked Seishiro, but addressed the horizon. “You must have questions.”

 

There were a lot of guides to introduce people to BDSM, and yesterday Subaru had sent him links to a few he’d considered useful given their circumstances.

 

When he turned around to face him, Seishiro was lighting a cigarette, appreciating the view. The sun was warm where it his Subaru’s shoulders.

 

He took an unhurried breath in. Breathed smoke out. “Is domination something you’re going to want all the time?”

 

“What?" It was surprising as far as opening questions went. "No, no definitely not. I mean,” Subaru fidgeted with the seam on a glove. It wasn’t like Seishiro was looking at him to notice anyway. “I know people who do it 24/7 and it works for them, but… no.”

 

“No, that’s not-” Seishiro flicked the ash away and it fell through the grating of the step at his feet. He looked back down at Subaru. “Is domination something you’re going to want _every_ time?”

 

Every time what? There were parts of this Subaru could tell Seishiro still hadn’t wrapped his mind around. “Not every submission is sexual. And not all the sex I like is submissive. It’s probably best to not think about them as one and the same thing.”

 

Seishiro seemed to like that answer. Even so, he was quick to confirm, “But sometimes they are?”

 

Subaru wasn’t meaning to flirt but the obvious interest behind the question was a little endearing and he was flattered. It was so oddly innocent in a way. “Yeah,” He said, chin tipped down a little. “Sometimes.”

 

Seishiro was looking at him in that way he did when they were alone. So attentive. Captivated. Devoted? Subaru moved off the railing and climbed the few steps to where Seishiro was sitting. He didn’t move or take his eyes off the musician. Subaru leaned forward, taking the lit cigarette carefully from between his lips, then braced his hands on the stair to either side of him. Only then did Seishiro lean into the closeness and Subaru caught his bottom lip between his own. Subaru shifted, eyes falling closed, and they moved together. Once. Twice. On the third Subaru retreated before things could get heated. He perched on the step at Seishiro’s feet.

 

“Anything you wanted to ask about domming?” He passed back the cigarette.

 

“I’m not sure that I have the closet for it.”

 

Subaru gave a polite laugh, grateful that Seishiro was comfortable enough to be joking about it. Until he realized he wasn’t.

 

Which honestly was even funnier. Subaru took in the man’s tie. His perfectly tailored blazer. The black patent leather shoes next to the ripped denim on his own knee. He absolutely _did_ have the closet for it. It was almost sweet to think he hadn’t been doing it on purpose.

  
“You’re asking about like… leather and bondage gear?” Subaru checked. “Clothing is really secondary but if you’re interested, I know some stores you might like.” He almost gave the standard ‘but it can get expensive’ warning before catching himself. If Seishiro was getting paid the way everyone else on the tour was, that really wouldn’t be an issue.

 

“So, you all ready have things like that?”

 

Seishiro wasn’t meeting his eye, instead letting his gaze drag down his torso. The man already knew what he looked like bare chested. Who knew what he was fantasizing him wrapped up in?

 

Subaru just grinned and patted his knee. “I wasn’t exactly expecting you when we started this trip, so it’s not like I packed anything, but maybe I can show you when we get back to New York.”

  
“But still no school boy uniform?” Seishiro chuckled.

 

The hand withdrew and Subaru’s face fell. “Look, I’m not against roleplay or whatever, but that particular one is never going to happen. Please stop asking.”

 

Seishiro’s smile faded away and the next words were spoken gingerly. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. I’ll stop.

 

There was a haunted look in Subaru’s eyes but he managed to blink it away. “Thank you.”

 

The conspiratorial air they’d been sharing a moment before had died. The next question came without the charge of that energy, like it was a purely philosophical inquiry.

 

“I understand the appeal from the sadist’s side,” Seishiro began. Subaru noted the subtle change in vocabulary and wondered if it had been a conscious choice. “But to enjoy pain?”

 

To a certain extent almost everyone did, but Subaru knew what he meant. They weren’t talking about love bites or nails down your back.

 

By the time he spoke, Subaru had fully recovered, falling easily back into the role of instructor. “Well, first of all, pain isn’t necessarily a part of it.”

 

“So you _don’t_ like pain?”

 

“I didn’t say that.” Subaru smiled, fond exasperation tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m just clarifying.”

 

They talked for a long time, Subaru patiently explaining what he could while the other man listened. Seishiro seemed to understand subspace well enough once he’d had it described to him. Trying to tell him how pain and the chemicals it released could help get someone there was something he didn’t look so convinced of, but at least he was prepared to take Subaru’s word for it. He even asked about subdrop, which Subaru took as a good sign that he was taking his responsibility seriously, but at the same time, it was a little like planning for their separation before they even got together.

 

What a responsible and depressing thing to do.

 

“So how do I keep you from dropping?” Subaru wasn’t looking at him, but Seishiro had a few fingers resting against his neck, thumb stroking idly at the tip of his chin.

 

The musician didn’t speak right away. He’d know people who had ways to deal with it. Constant contact while your dom was away. Little reminders all over the house. Support from other friends. But in his experience, nothing _really_ made it go away. And the break ups…

 

“You don’t.”

 

When Subaru didn’t elaborate, Seishiro turned his head gently, obviously expecting more. He sighed and went on. “Subdrop is a part of this. You have to take the highs with the lows. It doesn’t go away just because you feel bad about it.”

 

Seishiro’s brow furrowed. “And you still want this even so?”

 

Subaru tucked his chin a little, dragging his bottom lip lightly across his thumb. His green eyes looked up through dark eyelashes. “I do.” Heaven help him.

 

Seishiro looked like he was about to say something, but the words failed him. His mouth just hung open for a few moments, then he pulled Subaru into another kiss. It was different this time. Subaru’s hands were on his neck, in his hair and the musician melted against his side appreciatively. It was deep, but still it wasn’t really desperate. Subaru reveled in it anyway. The touch. The connection. The comfort. Seishiro’s arms were wrapped around him and finally, _finally_ , he just let himself _be_. Just this moment. Just this kiss. Nothing else to think about.

 

Eventually it was Seishiro that pulled away, but the hand on his back didn’t go anywhere. The man took a few breaths, then laid back against the stairway. Subaru just watched. His body language said ‘space’ not ‘invitation’.

 

Even so, Seishiro’s thumb stroked idly along his spine where it sat at the waistband of his jeans, cool against his warm skin. “The guides said sometimes it’s good to have an experienced dom present the first few times we try for anything too intense.”

 

Subaru let his focus be drawn away by a passing pair of pigeons. An excuse to look away and ponder the sky instead. An experienced dom was a good idea, but anyone he would trust to do that was continents away. Well, except for…

 

But the thought of him interacting with Seishiro like that, especially while Subaru himself was too out of it to mediate, made his stomach squirm in all the worst ways.

 

“We’ll build up slowly. It should be fine. If you still think you need it when the time comes, let me know and we’ll figure something out.”

 

“Actually, I was going to say I didn’t like the idea at all.”

 

“Oh.” Well then, problem solved.

 

“We’re- I mean…,” Seishiro tried again. “If we do this, we’re going to be exclusive, right?”

 

Subaru hesitated, not sure which question he was asking. In his experience, sex and submission didn’t always overlap and dating was even rarer.

 

“Seishiro, do you like me?”

 

“I’m here aren’t I?” He echoed Subaru's own words back at him with a wide grin. Subaru sighed and let his gaze wander the city skyline for a moment before looking back.

 

“This is serious. I need to know where we stand.”

 

Seishiro’s eyes narrowed. “Then maybe you should be a little more specific.”

 

“You want me to be your submissive?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you want to have sex with me?”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“But do you want to be my boyfriend?”

 

Seishiro shrugged. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

 

Subaru frowned. “Not necessarily. I mean… Do you want to hold my hand while we watch movies? Do you want to take me out to dinner? Surprise me with flowers? That sort of thing.” Subaru had just talked about ropes and whips without blinking an eye, but asking this line of questions made him feel vulnerable in a way he didn’t at all enjoy.

 

“Kind of hard to do that when you can’t be seen in public together.” Seishiro played it lightly, but even so…

 

“Seishiro please, this is important. I’m really trying here.”

 

“Then ask a real question!” The tone was sharp and caught him off guard. Subaru blinked at him, surprised. But Seishiro seemed more frustrated than anything.

 

Subaru sighed. They could probably dance around this all day, or… He shifted, turning to face Seishiro, forcing himself to make eye contact, hands folded nervously together at his knees. “When you see me, does your heart beat faster? Does your chest get tight? Do you feel warm? Are there butterflies in your stomach when you think of me?”

 

Do you love me?

 

Seishiro was smiling across at him. He wasn’t quite rolling his eyes, but Subaru got that impression regardless. “Subaru, that’s movies. That’s fairy tales. No one really feels like that.”

 

“Yes!” Subaru was aghast. “Yes, people do. All the time!” He couldn’t figure it out. His words were so cold but his eyes so fond. Even now the hand on his back was a comfort. “Seishiro…” He hesitated. “Do you think you might be aromantic?”

 

“Am I what?” It was another new term Seishiro was going to have to fit into his hitherto simple view of sex and companionship.

 

Subaru added a few more sites to his mental list of references for Seishiro to read through. “I don’t really understand it the best. This probably isn’t even a good explanation, but it sort of means you don’t really like the romance side of dating.”

 

“I’ve never really bothered with it. Maybe?” At first all the labels Subaru had tried on him were amusing, but it was starting to get frustrating. It wasn’t like he was some mystery for Subaru to figure out and catalog. He was himself and he liked what he liked. And he liked Subaru. Wasn’t that enough to go on? What was the point in trying to pick apart distinctions and nuance? But at the same time, it seemed important to the musician. The least he could do was play along. “And I take it… you’re not?”

 

“No, I’m not.” Subaru leaned back, laying on his side, hands tucked under to cushion his cheek from the iron grating of the stairway. “Look, it’s not the end of the world if dating is not what you want. Desire can be complicated. I get it.”

 

Seishiro turned his head to the side, looking at Subaru for a long moment. The hand was still on his back, though it had stilled with the new position. “I can’t promise you butterflies and heartbeats, but I can do dinner and flowers. Concrete things. Whatever you want, just, tell me.”

 

Subaru seemed surprised, but he shifted ever so slightly closer. “Really?”

 

“‘Happy and Safe’, right?”

 

“I don’t want you to fake anything you don’t really feel.” Subaru was frowning, keeping a sober expression in preparation for disappointment, but it was all belayed by the way he kept pressing closer, fitting into the crook of the other man's arm.

 

“It’s not fake. I want to give it to you, I just don’t really get what I’m supposed to be giving.”

 

Still, Subaru didn’t seem convinced.

 

Seishiro sat up, twisting to lean over him, the hand on his back coming to rest at his hip and the other rubbed slow, comforting circles against the meat of his outer thigh.

 

“You sent me a guide for everything else.” Seishiro said. “Give me a guide for this, too.”

 

Subaru frowned. If it was such a bad idea, then why did this feel so right?

 

“When you put it like that, I guess it doesn’t seem _so_ strange.” But romance wasn’t one size fits all. That wasn’t something he had a handy guide for. He’d known, from the moment he decided to go down that path, how to teach Seishiro to be a good dominate partner. It wasn’t like this was his first time initiating someone. But how to be a good boyfriend? There was barely even a precedent for him to work off of. This was much more the area of…

 

…Hokuto.

 

She was so much better at this sort of thing. And no one in the world knew him better. She’d know exactly what to tell Seishiro to do.

 

But he’d have to introduce them first.

 

He could already imagine the eardrum splitting shriek of her excitement.

 

“Subaru, are you ok?” Seishiro leaned back.

 

Subaru sat up into the space he’d left behind. “Yeah just… this is moving pretty fast.”

 

Seishiro’s hand settled large and warm on his knee. “I thought you said we’d start slow. It’s not like either of us are going anywhere.”

 

“No, not that. I think you should meet my sister.”

 

“Hokuto?” Seishiro asked.

 

How did he-? Oh. The 200 page background check. That was going to take getting used to.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Seishiro’s hand squeezed his knee ever so slightly and he was… smiling? That polite, professional smile from when he’d first spoken on the plane. “Well, I look forward to meeting her.”

 

“I’m sure she’ll feel the same.” Subaru stood up, slipping out of Seishiro’s light grip and descending the stairs, escaping, uncomfortable and not really sure why. He picked up the guitar from where he’d left it on the landing. Briefly he considered playing it, the strings were resonating where his gloved fingers had closed around it’s neck, but in the end he decided not to.

 

“Are we going?” Seishiro asked, unfolding from the stairs, smoothing out his jacket.

 

“People might start to miss us if we’re gone too long.” It was a feeble excuse. Everyone had been so wrapped up in their own personal dramas that the apartments had started to feel empty. Even so, Seishiro didn’t question it.

 

Subaru meandered down the staircase, distracted by the light hitting the skyscrapers. Kamui had told him once, as they had sat on a rooftop cloud-watching together, that the world seemed so much more understandable from above. If there was a guardian angel watching over him, he wondered how high they’d have to fly before the meaning of his life fell into focus.

 

“Subaru!”

 

He looked back over his shoulder. He could see it in Seishiro’s face before he felt it. The handrail in his grip just suddenly… wasn’t.

 

Instantly, his stomach dropped and his heart was pounding. His weight was already too far forward and he teetered on the edge of the landing. Desperately he reached back, dropping his guitar and grasping at air. Time seemed frozen, Subaru’s body coursing with adrenaline but with nothing to do beside look down and see the impending asphalt stories below and the guitar that was already tumbling down.

 

Then there was a tension where the sleeves of his coat pulled him backward.

 

Then the world shifted and he was thrown against concrete and iron by a hand over his heart that slammed him back so hard, he wondered if his ribs weren’t just bruised but broken. He heard the sickening crunch of wood and wire below.

 

“Subaru!”

 

Seishiro had a hand against him, holding him safely to solid ground. He tried to answer but the air had been knocked out of his lungs and all he could do was wheeze.

 

“Subaru!”

 

Subaru had never seen him like this. He wasn’t panicking, but his eyes were alive and he was fierce with efficiency. Subaru couldn’t react through the shock as Seishiro checked him over for injury, assessing his ribs with quick fingers. Then Seishiro’s hand was at the back of his head, running along his scalp. When his fingertips came back tinged with blood he frowned and held Subaru’s face up in two careful hands, looked closely at his pupils. Finally Subaru’s body obeyed him and with a grip tight with adrenaline, he caught one of the wrists at his face and looked up at Seishiro with wide, terrified eyes.

 

“Subaru?”

 

“I-” But what could he say?

 

“I don’t think you have a concussion.”

 

Concussion? Who cared about a concussion? He could have just- It was so far to fall. He wouldn’t have- He would have been just like…

 

Subaru didn’t say anything. He was in shock. But when Seishiro frowned, gloved hands wove around his neck and in his hair, dragging him down into a desperate kiss. Subaru pulled away just as suddenly. Like there wasn’t enough air in the world.

 

“Are you ok?” There must have been blood on his cheek from Seishiro’s hands because now there was a little on Seishiro’s too.

 

“My guitar.” Subaru croaked weakly. When he looked down, he could see the splinters of his instrument, and the tellingly large radius they had ricocheted into.

 

“We need to get out of here.” Seishiro was shifting away now. They needed to get back on the level where they’d left the elevator and away before anyone showed up to investigate.

 

But Subaru wasn’t moving.

 

He was finally feeling the gravity of the moment. The overwhelming, gargantuan ‘what if’ that had just been so narrowly avoided. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He-

 

“Subaru!” And Seishiro was back, holding his face in his hands again. “You’re fine. Everything is ok, and you are going to calmly walk up these stairs and ride down in the elevator.”

 

This wasn’t the time to break. He needed to focus. He just needed to move. If he could just-

 

“Hey! Look at me!”

 

Subaru blinked up at him.

 

Seishiro narrowed his eyes. “Subaru. You’re fine.”

 

It didn’t sound like a question or an order. It just… was. Like Seishiro saying it made it true somehow.

 

A shaky breath shuddered out of him and he nodded. “Yeah. I… Ok.”

 

Seishiro grabbed his hand and when he pulled, this time Subaru followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for heights and the threat of falling.
> 
> (Also, some ConCrit would be appreciated if anyone is up to it. On a scale of using each person's name every sentence and not knowing who is doing what ever, how would you rate how hard it is to follow the action in this story lately? Idk. I'm trying to find that balance. It bugs me but I'm having trouble getting a feel for it.)


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby, I got a plan. Run away fast as you can.

If there was anything Ashura had learned in his more than half-century on this earth, it was that coffee could fix anything. The rich, full-bodied aroma hit his senses like a warm wave, easing the furrow out of his brow. This wasn’t supposed to be his mug but...  
  
He glanced out the glass doors to the balcony. Fai had hung up a while ago but he was still leaning on the railing, shifting every few moments: his head in his hands, chin on his fists, his forehead on the heels of his palms and his elbows on the railing.

 

… Fai could use a few more minutes to collect himself.

 

Ashura took a smooth sip. Best not to let it get cold and go to waste.

 

He wasn’t sure how Fai had managed it, but when the time came for Ashura to get clean, he did it with a little replacement therapy. Coffee becoming his new drug of choice. So he learned all the different beans. Got himself a home roaster. Bought some shiny machines. It hadn’t been his favorite as far as stimulants went, but if it was all he was going to allow himself, he was going to have the best of the best.

 

He even learned how to make all those swirls and designs in the foam. He’d drawn Fai a sepia colored phoenix without even thinking about it. He took a sip. Maybe it would be better for the blonde not to see it after all.

 

Ashura twirled his key ring idly around a finger on the counter top, the plastic scraping lightly on marble.

 

He’d been about to offer to take Fai to the Jaguar driving club to try out the new track when the phone call had come. He had a feeling that now they probably wouldn’t make it before school got out. Oh well. Something for another day.

 

Fai visited often enough, but he tried not to be too selfish with the time available for him to see the kids. Very much longer and they wouldn’t have the excuse to drive into town together to pick them up from school. How many more comfortable family dinners would Fai be present for before they were off to college with their own lives and after that their own families? It was a little fantasy he indulged himself in during his weaker moments; what might have been had he and Fai been different people or met at a different point in their lives? He told himself he didn’t let it color their friendship. That it was harmless.

 

He put the milk back in the brushed-steel refrigerator.

 

Ashura had never thought of himself as a pictures-on-the-fridge type of person, but children had changed that. There were plenty now, both of the child he had given his name to and the second born, Tenou. There was no particular order to the photos, but if you took the time, you could see the twins growing up through the snapshots. Ashura felt like every time he blinked they were another year older. And through it, he’d aged himself, perhaps more subtly, but there were definite streaks of silver in his once pure raven hair. He was self-aware enough to admit the wrinkles were a blow to his vanity, but at least he had the solace that they were laughter lines.

 

And Fai. Fai had won a spot on his refrigerator as well. There was only one photo of the two of them. He wouldn’t be so cruel as to hang one to do with music, but this was just a shot from a birthday party of Fai’s. Twenty-one candles burned while Fai made a wish, and Ashura held the cake for him, both their smiling faces illuminated in the candlelight. There were other, more intimate photos in a box in the attic that he thought about every so often, though he hadn’t opened it in years.

 

To his knowledge, any other photos from that time were presumably either destroyed or sitting in an evidence locker somewhere.

 

There were other pictures of Fai on his fridge, of course. Each was a New Year’s card that he and Kurogane sent out together almost every January, usually in some tacky matching outfits.

 

So no, though he might feel a twinge in his stomach when Fai asked Tenou what he'd learned in school that day, or stare a little too long when his first born proudly played their latest composition for the blonde, he wasn’t under any illusions about where and with who Fai belonged.

 

He kept the pictures on the fridge, a reminder should he ever be tempted to forget.

 

Outside Fai had settled, leaning against the railing and staring out into the water.

 

Ashura began on another drink, putting in an extra shot of sweet syrup, then after a considering glance out the doors, an extra on top of that. This time the foam had a stylized rabbit. Fai would probably like that.

 

He slid the door open and walked across the wood of the balcony. Fai didn’t react, still lost in thought. He was in socks, so his steps were quiet, but not _that_ quiet. “Fai?” He said softly, using his free hand to draw a knuckle across the back of his arm. Once upon a time it had been a greeting and a code. Now it was more a force of habit.

 

He could see the process of Fai collecting himself; His eyes slowly left the sapphire depths of the lake, as if they were caught under the pressure of the water themselves. He shifted into his hip as he looked over his shoulder with a serene smile.

 

It caught Ashura off guard. The Fai that lived in his memories (and fantasies) was the one he’d gotten to know _before_ Clover had taught him to fall back on that expression. He did his best not to take it personally.

 

Or to feel too guilty about it.

 

He offered the mug. It was generously sized but minimalist in it’s form, as were a lot of things Ashura tended to accrue. “For you.”  
  
“Ah!” Fai’s smile turned a little more genuine as he spotted the latte. “Thank you.” He brought it to his mouth before he noticed. “Is that a bunny?”

 

Ashura smiled, slight, but his eyes twinkled.

 

“Well, isn’t that adorable.” Fai took a moment to appreciate it before taking his first sip.

 

It was all there. The smile. The warm tone of voice. But something…

 

… something was still off.

 

On Ashura’s invitation they settled on the hanging bench. There were thick cushions and blankets to wrap in against the chill of the breeze.

 

“Fai, are you alright?”

 

Fai's toes just barely skimmed the floor as they swayed. “I am now.”

 

“No, I mean, beside all of this.” He waved vaguely in a circle. Not this specific visit. Not this specific fight. “I heard _Runaway_ on the radio the other day.”

 

“Oh.” Fai looked into his mug.

 

It had been different enough to appease a lawyer should one come sniffing, but to him it was a clear rework of a song from Fai’s dead album. It wasn’t what had ended up on the final track and obviously the rap and most of the words were new, but Ashura had been there through the process, and for a long time it was the version Fai thought he’d be putting on his premier. If he was starting to pick off bits and pieces for sale… to cannibalize the body of work…

 

… maybe he’d finally given up.

 

But Fai didn’t look that upset, or at least not more upset than his current situation could be expected to make him. Maybe ‘come to terms’ was a better phrase for what he was doing.

 

“I thought it might help. Let it live, you know?”

 

“Did it?”

 

“I’m not sure yet, but it was hell to get through the recording.” The words were spoken lightly, like that might make it better. 

 

“It’s you playing on the track?” Which, if it was true, would be not only a violation of Fai’s settlement but also one that could be used to nullify it. It was a gamble. Clover was for all intents and purposes gone, but there had been enough forward thinking that certain elements had been paid for life before the company went down. Meaning if anyone noticed Fai’s activities, reporting him and pursuing the case could earn them a nice bonus, probably in time for the holidays. But first they’d have to come to terms with (further) ruining someone’s life over a decades old grudge.

 

Ashura didn’t feel entirely comfortable with those odds. They’d pissed off a lot of powerful people. But there wasn’t much he could do about it now beside keep Fai’s secret.

 

“Yeah,” Fai admitted. “But uncredited obviously. It seemed wrong to charge for seven notes.” It was _a_ reason but it wasn’t _the_ reason.

 

Ashura’s smile shifted into something a little more rueful. There had been entire weeks back when he’d first been recording it, where every time Fai was using, the only thing he wanted to do was drag whoever happened to be standing closest to a piano and talk about how important those seven notes were in the context of the piece. He could go for actual hours if no one stopped him. When it was his turn to be Fai’s victim, Ashura hadn’t really listened past the first five minutes but it was hardly a chore to sit and nod occasionally when Fai was that excited about something. What he wouldn’t give to-

 

He was at peace with how things had ended, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t still miss moments like that. He’d probably been lost in memory longer than he realized because Fai was changing the subject.

 

“How have the kids been?”

 

His thoughts quickly tumbled forward through the decades. “Good.”

 

“So Little Ashura finally found something that felt right?”

 

He had to stifle a laugh. “Yeah, it’s ‘they’. At least for now. But if you ever call them ‘Little Ashura’ they’re probably going to die of embarrassment.”

 

“Oh!” Fai said with concern born of misunderstanding. “Is it not ‘Ashura’ anymore?”

 

He smiled, shaking his head. “No they are. But here at home it’s usually ‘Ash’. It helps to keep things straight.”

 

“Aww!” Fai whined good-naturedly. “Does that mean I can’t call them ‘Junior’ anymore?”

 

Ashura couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. “Not unless you want to incur the wrath of the teen, no.”

 

Fai had been around quite a bit for ‘wrath of the two year old’. He didn’t want to imagine what the new tantrums might look like. “Is it as bad as everyone says?”

 

Ashura contemplated it. Sure, they got tempers sometimes, but Tenou was doing so well in school and Ash was still just as sweet and caring as ever. “No. Not at all.” Something occurred to him and he frowned. “Dating though. I could do without them dating.” Fai smirked and just sipped at his latte, knees pulled up to sit criss-crossed. “I think Tenou was born without gaydar. And Ashura…”

 

Fai was giving him a side-eye. “Yeah, I was going to ask about that. So, Ash and Yasha then?” They’d been inseparable all last night, and you’d have to be blind to miss the fleeting little way Ash would find excuses to touch him or the how comfortable Yasha’s hand had been on Ash’s waist as they’d said goodnight.

 

“I’m afraid so.”

 

“And you’re ok with that?”

 

Ashura shrugged a little stiffly. “Yes? To an extent. Yasha’s been a friend of the family for a long time. He’s a good kid.” He’d first been introduced as a sort of baby sitter, helping him keep an eye on the twins. Yasha had been ten. They’d been five. To the couple that five year age gap felt smaller everyday. To him it felt bigger. “I’m trying to keep things open with the kids as they get older. We talked about how important it is to wait until they’re ready. At a certain point all I can do is give them my advice and trust them.”

 

“You’re nicer than me I guess. I was itching to give Yasha the ‘if you hurt my baby’ speech all night.”

 

Ashura caught his eye and for a moment he could see that fierceness from years ago. “Oh, we’ve talked. Don’t you worry about that.”

 

Fai grinned. It was a little patronizing to Ash and hypocritical as hell, but still, he felt a little better for it. “Oh good.”

 

Fai seemed content, and for a moment he was envious.

 

If Fai thought someone holding your teenager’s hand was bad, Ashura wondered if he could appreciate what it felt like to have your ex show up on your doorstep in tears out of the blue, or to watch the brittle mess that had been Fai during the phone call.

 

“And how is your family?”

 

Out of habit Fai almost asked, ‘What family?’, but Ashura was already giving him a look. His coffee was done and he set it aside. “He seemed pretty pissed when I left, but I’m sure we’ll get over it.”

 

“It was him on the phone earlier, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Are you worried?”

 

Fai just shrugged.

 

Ashura nodded. It wasn’t an answer but even that was telling in it’s own way. “I wouldn’t if I were you. Kurogane likes a challenge. He’s not going anywhere.”

 

Fai just pouted at him. “Are you saying I’m difficult?”

 

Ashura raised an eyebrow as the grin broke across his face. “Are you pretending you’re not?” Then the chiding became something more tender. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You’re just the same and just as bad. Why else would you get in your own way so much?”

 

Fai wasn’t sure if that was a fair way to phrase it. “What’s it got to do with me?” He pulled a blanket around his shoulders. “Life just gets hard sometimes.”

 

Ashura’s voice dropped into a hush. “It could have been a lot easier.” Fai looked to him quickly, searching those amber eyes. They both knew they weren’t talking about Kurogane anymore.

 

Fai’s expression fell into a frown. Even as he shifted to sit closer, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, he was shaking his head. Ashura just looked back to the lake. “No,” Fai said. “You had already done enough.”

 

When the end came, and it came quickly, things had gone perfectly according to plan. Certain documents had leaked, exposing enough that not even money could make it go away. The problems at Clover had been nebulous and in the same way that it was no one person’s fault, everyone was guilty. He hadn’t wanted to take anyone down, but he’d wanted the cycle to stop.

 

But change like that needed a scapegoat and Ashura, feeling the burden of his own sins, had elected himself for that role. So he’d fled the country. Tied up enough money in offshore accounts to live comfortably should the worst happen. And waited for the inevitable.

 

Except it didn’t come. All that had to happen was for Fai to testify against him, and the musician would be able to walk away free and clean. And Fai… His sweet, kind, beautiful, stupid, stubborn Fai had refused.

 

He hadn’t left the younger man implicated in any criminal charges (would never _ever_ have left him _that_ vulnerable) but there was still the contract to get Fai out of. He could have claimed any number of things to nullify it. There was a lot of evidence against Ashura he could use to claim harassment and coercion. Their relationship had been an open secret and all Fai had to do was mention it in court. The difference in their age. The power structure at Clover. No sane jury would have denied him.

 

But Fai had refused. It had saved his own reputation but at the cost of Fai getting trapped under the contract of a dead company that would never let him perform again.

 

They’d fought about it. Viciously towards the end, but there was nothing Ashura could do to _make_ him do it. After that they hadn’t talked for a few years. Ashura tried to move on.

 

So he’d bought a house. Found a new job. Found a new love, a nice Indian girl like his mother, may she rest in peace, had always wanted. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it, but he broke his silence with Fai by sending a wedding invitation. Through the grapevine, he’d heard Fai was dating other people again. And he had Shashi. Obviously they had moved on. It would be fine.

 

But then Fai had actually showed up. Still so young and beautiful. Still dressing in soft blues and whites. The entire weekend Fai never made a move. Never made a gesture or a look out of line or even remotely romantic. But he’d been so, _so_ happy to see Ashura again. And Ashura…

 

Fai played their wedding march.

 

The union was cursed before it even began.

 

Time passed. They had two beautiful children. Shashi was unfaithful and Ashura couldn’t even blame her, because he knew in his heart he was the same. There was divorce. There was adjustment to single parenting. Adjusting to Fai’s new boyfriend. Life went on.

 

Fai had sacrificed so much to let it, so at the very least he vowed to enjoy it. To honor what Fai had done for him. Maybe he couldn’t move on romantically, but he had two precious children to devote himself to.

 

The breeze had picked up and in response Fai took the liberty of spreading the blanket over his shoulders, the fabric still warm with Fai’s body heat. Ashura shifted himself, wrapping an arm around his slender shoulders in a side-armed, hug. Fai relaxed into the embrace and they both drew the edges of the blanket together in front of them, keeping the warmth against their bodies. They were both staring into the water now.

 

“Do you ever have regrets?” Fai asked, so quietly the breeze might have carried it away if they weren’t sitting so closely.

 

Ashura exhaled. Even with everything that had gone so wrong, he’d always acted in good faith. “Just the one.” He glanced over and Fai did the same. They were so close, but it might as well have been miles, for all that that wasn’t his mouth to kiss anymore. Fai was waiting with those big blue eyes of his. “I regret hurting you.”

 

Ashura watched as the emotions flowed across Fai’s eyes; surprise, grief, a gathering of strength, then a reassuring smile matched in warmth only by the pale hand that fell against his cool cheek, drawing them together, resting temple to temple. “You didn’t hurt me.” Fai said quietly into the stillness between them.

 

Ashura let his eyes slide closed. He did not take it for granted. The closeness. The trust. The absolvement Fai was offering him, a gift he was sure he didn’t deserve, but would treasure just the same. Fai’s breath stirred against his cheek and his warmth was against his brow. He could even catch the scent of that blonde hair. He took a deep breath and used the inertia to pull himself away, eyes still closed and his own hand coming to cover Fai’s where it still held his cheek.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he saw Fai’s delicate smile and gave one in return. “Then my conscience is clear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Runaway by Kanye West


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this didn't go according to plan AT ALL. Blame Subaru. 8]
> 
> The more I messed with it, the clunkier it got, so... I think it's best if I just post it. Let me know what you think? ^u^'

They hadn’t been that far from home, but when Subaru’s steps became slower and slower, obviously falling into some sort of shock, Seishiro had ordered a car to pick them up. Ever since Kamui and Fuuma’s press conference, there had been paparazzi at their building day and night. Not a swarm by any means, but it only took one to capture a damaging photograph. So all the better if he could get Subaru home quickly in a car with windows tinted for privacy. The elevator ride from the garage to the top floor was spent in absolute silence and stillness, so when the doors opened and Subaru bolted, he hadn’t been prepared.

 

The members of Breathing Fire each had their own ‘secret’ knock. A specific rhythm they used to identify their presence to the others. It was more ‘secret handshake’ than ‘secret code’ because it was just a thing they did for fun, but when Subaru’s arm was too stiff to get the timing right, and he stuttered through it, it meant Kamui opened the door already concerned. Already aware that something was wrong.

 

“Subaru?”

 

“Kamui!”

 

His arms were around Subaru’s shoulders and drawing him back into the apartment before Seishiro had even stepped out of the elevator.

 

Kamui, whom everyone had warned him about. Kamui, who he’d never even had the chance to go up against, preemptively pacified as he was by his adoration of Miss Ichihara. Kamui, whose black eye and split lip were not just a stain on his face but an undeserved stain across his own reputation as a security provider, but one he was sworn to secrecy about. Kamui, to whom Subaru had just run. Literally from his arms to the singer’s.

 

He stalked towards the still open door.

 

And was stopped by Fuuma’s arm across the threshold. “It’s ok. We’ll take care of this.” It was friendly. Polite.

 

“No, I-” When Seishiro lightly tried to push past Fuuma’s arm the drummer tightened his grip on the door frame.

 

Fuuma was still smiling but his eyes had gone sharp with warning. “Why don’t you find somewhere else to be for a while?”

 

He frowned, trying to catch Subaru’s attention, but both he and Kamui were standing together deeper in the apartment, already in their own little world. Subaru was tucked into his chest and Kamui had a hand around his shoulders and the other petting through his hair, murmuring soft words of comfort.

 

Seishiro still might have talked his way into the room if not for Kamui in that moment finding the patch of still-tacky blood in Subaru’s hair. He watched as Kamui froze, pulled his hand away in horror to find the streaks of blood left across his fingers. With a building fury, he turned towards Seishiro and held Subaru all the tighter, face contorted into a fierce snarl. “What did you do!?”

 

“I didn’t-!”

 

But Fuuma wasn't interested in explanations. He’d spotted Seishiro’s own bloody fingertips: the red still under his fingernails, caught in the creases of his knuckles, the remnants he couldn’t get off during the quick car ride. “We’ll talk to _you_ later.” Fuuma promised, deadly serious, and closed the door in his face.

 

Seishiro was left alone in the hallway, standing stock-still and breathing heavily through carefully even breaths.

 

On one level he knew this was all a miscommunication. He might have done the same things had their roles been reversed. But on another level he was livid. Deeply. Burningly. Livid.

 

Which was troubling. He was supposed to be a professional. Professionals didn’t get emotional. They strategized.

 

He turned on his heel, face carefully blank as he retreated to his office, closing the door behind him. His laptop sprang to life with his password and biometric confirmation. He’d taken his plant out of Subaru’s phone but he still had them in Kamui and Fuuma’s. He put on the headset and activated the listening devices in both, settling on Kamui’s when it had clearer sound.

 He paced his office, finger to his ear as he listened. 

There wasn’t much to hear. Sniffling. Murmuring too low for the microphone to pick up actual words. The clink of a mug on tabletop and a suspicious amount of fabric rustling.

 

He could imagine the scene. Couldn’t _not_ , really. Subaru, on the couch by now. Kamui and probably Fuuma too, comforting him. Calming him. Holding him.

 

All at once he realized what had always bothered him about those two.

 

But that was his gut speaking. The ravenous instinct burning just below his sternum, insisting, chanting: Mine. Mine. Mine.

 

He tipped his head back, closing his eyes and breathing deeply until the feeling dimmed. This wasn’t him. He did not cave to feeling like this.

 

He calmed himself and as it always was, rationality was waiting for him on the other side.

 

No. This was fine. Subaru had been triggered into a panic attack. Fuuma and Kamui knew how to help him. Misunderstandings aside, doing anything less than delivering him to them would have been negligent. It had been the right thing to do, and yet he knew he wished he could have done it himself. But Subaru had insisted anything to do with his mental health start out small, and recovering from a panic like that was not ‘small’. Maybe they’d get there someday, but first he needed to earn Subaru’s trust. Show dependability. Keep his promises.

 

Like how he’d promised Subaru he’d stop spying on him.

 

Seishiro’s hand hovered over the button to sever the connection, hesitant. Unsure.

 

In his ear Subaru sighed Kamui’s name appreciatively.

 

Seishiro stabbed at it, suddenly decisive, breaking the connection and retracting his hand like it had burned him.

 

The headset fell silent.

 

The next hour passed agonizingly slowly while he watched the security feed of the empty hallway instead. He figured he was allowed at least that. Eventually Subaru exited, alone and apparently recovered. The young man passed by his office door and down the hall. Seishiro was up and had opened his door before Subaru could turn the corner.

 

Except Subaru hadn’t turned the corner. He was standing in front of his own door with his key out. Seishiro pondered the very real possibility that Subaru hadn’t been planning to come see him at all.

 

“Seishiro?”

 

Neither moved for a long moment.

 

“Are you ok?” Seishiro asked.

 

“I-“ He slowly put his key back in his pocket. “Yeah.” Subaru moved into the office while Seishiro held the door for him.

 

Once inside Subaru gravitated toward the bookshelves, reading over the spines of books and binders. Seishiro closed the door, the lock clanking shut automatically. Unthinkingly he sat down in his normal chair, only realizing his mistake after the fact. He’d taken the position of power. It wasn’t the dynamic he’d wanted for this conversation. But he worried it might be too awkward to get up and move, so he subtly pushed his chair back instead, at least not claiming the desk as well. For all that he carefully weighed the interpersonal politics of it all, Subaru didn’t seemed bothered by the faux pas, much more interested in the reading material.

 

When Subaru spoke, he didn’t turn to look at him. “At first I thought that might have been ‘evacuation in event of structural instability’ but based on your reactions, now I’m wondering if it wasn’t more ‘standard personnel retrieval procedure’.”

 

Subaru finally glanced over and Seishiro couldn’t help the small smile. “You read my manual.”

 

“I was getting tired of all the surprises.” Subaru lightly teased back. "You realize in the Donner Party scenario, I'm basically the first to go?"

 

"My condolences." Seishiro grinned.

 

The idea that while he’d been doing his required reading on BDSM, Subaru had been looking through his own security manual. It made him feel-

 

Well…

 

There certainly was an elegant symmetry to the image.

 

It made him feel.

 

“I explained what happened. Kamui and Fuuma don’t blame you but you might want to give them a day or two to cool down.”

 

“Right. Thank you for that.”

 

Subaru just nodded, something else obviously on his mind. “Thank you, too. You know?”

 

Seishiro… didn’t? “For what?”

 

“Um…” Subaru shrugged. “Saving my life, I guess?”

 

Oh, _that_.

 

“Any time.”

 

It was his job after all.

 

Subaru nodded again, almost a sort of bow, giving the moment its due before retreating back to look at the book shelf, watching Seishiro only from the corner of his eye.

 

Seishiro wasn’t paying much attention to the titles Subaru was looking at, and he had a feeling Subaru wasn’t either. That’s what people did during awkward conversations, right? Pretended to do something else. Like how Seishiro was pretending to set his already pristine desk back in order, but really he was just watching.

Back before all of this, before the tour and his new assignment, they’d given him preliminary profiles on each of the artists and one of their official photographs as reference. It was his first introduction to the opening band. Breathing Fire had undergone a little rebranding once they became a Destiny Records property. Kamui became the rebellious pretty boy frontman, all confidence and easy sexuality (which, it wasn’t the only side to him but,… fair enough it was one of them.). Fuuma had this older brother thing going on. And Subaru, with his baby face had been cast as ‘the shy one’. ‘Quiet’, Seishiro would have believed, but ‘shy’? His photos were always a little simpering, a subtle turn of shoulder or a nervous gesture, meant to look as if it was caught on accident. They were cliche archetypes, but they seemed to work. Besides, putting a walking, breathing personification of innocence next to Kamui onstage? It certainly created tension. (A dynamic Seishiro would have probably appreciated more were he not so personally invested in it.)

 

But the young man in his office…

 

This wasn’t what Subaru looks like on the posters. There everything was photoshopped into hyper-real perfection. But this Subaru, the genuine article, he was flawed. The bags under his eyes were permanent, or at least they hadn’t gone anywhere since the tour began. There was the barest suggestion of lines around his eyes, premature, given his age, but apparently hard earned. The hair though. Excepting a few fly-aways, the posters were pretty much spot on. Subaru had excellent hair. And the eyes, tired though they were, were every bit of the sparkling bright green-emerald that got advertised on their album covers. They contrasted so well with the eyelids still red from crying.

 

“You look beautiful like this.”

 

Subaru huffed a dark laugh under his breath. “What, exhausted and tear stained?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Subaru looked at him so intensely but for the life of him, Seishiro couldn’t read the expression. When Subaru looked away and frowned, he had the sinking feeling he had said the wrong thing.

 

“You were in there a long time.”

 

Subaru checked the clock on his phone. Not really. It had only been a little over an hour. Sometimes it took much longer.

 

“What did you talk about?”

 

What did they- Besides the glaringly obvious? “Where are you going with this, Seishiro?”

 

“You didn’t stay with me. You went to them.” The tail end of the ease that had been fading since the remark on Subaru's looks finally slipped away entirely. 

 

Subaru frowned, turning back to the bookcase, away from Seishiro’s boring stare. “They’re my friends.”

 

Seishiro weighed his choices, but if the mood was ruined anyway, he might as well bring it up. “You never really answered me when I asked if we were exclusive.”

 

He could see the way Subaru’s shoulders tensed. “I need my friends after a near-death experience and you assume I’m sleeping with them?”

  
“That’s not what I said.” But it’s not _not_ what he'd said either. He approached the next sentence carefully, like someone might ease up to a bomb. “You three seem awfully close.”

 

He could see the way Subaru stilled. Could see his indecision.

 

He pressed on. Just a _little_ more. “So, you’re saying you’ve _never_ -”

 

Subaru’s head snapped back to look at him over a shoulder. “Did that not make it into your two hundred page report?” There was a warning edge in his voice and Seishiro backed down. A discussion for another night apparently. Or possibly never. Subaru had snapped at him but it had come at a cost. He sagged, the fight already gone out of him.

 

His hand fell on the spine of a binder. “This is it, right?” They were labeled with code names but after so many weeks, every one on tour had worked out who was who.

 

“Yes.”

 

Subaru traced the smooth plastic absently with a finger, obviously at war in his own mind before slipping a finger up to hook over the top, pulling it out. “I’m going to read it.”

 

“Ok.” Subaru hadn’t been asking for permission but Seishiro was compelled to give it after the fact.

Rather than sitting down in one of the perfectly serviceable plush guest seats, Subaru came to perch on the desk instead, to the side of Seishiro’s workspace, one leg hanging free and one nestled into the crook of the armrest connection on his chair.

 

His boot was still covered in construction dust and it was an expensive chair, but Seishiro said nothing despite the way that it ate at him. Because after everything he was sure he’d done wrong in the past few minutes, Subaru was still choosing to be close to him. And he wanted to be close too. To slip a hand under the hem of his jeans and caress the skin of his ankle. But Subaru had boots on today and they might as well have been armor.

 

Subaru reached for a pen from the cup acting as pencil holder on Seishiro’s desk and started writing in the binder.

“What are you doing?”

 

“You misspelled my dog’s name.”

 

“Leo?”

 

“Leon.” Subaru corrected without looking up.

 

Ah, that made more sense.

 

‘Leon. Mutt. Rescue dog. Killed after being hit by a car when Subaru was 13.’

 

Subaru added his own notes in small handwriting. ‘Never very good at fetch. Loved cheese. Good listener.’

 

He turned a few pages.

 

He stopped when he found a hand written note scrawled into a margin in red ink by Seishiro himself. It was the words ‘Flight Risk’ then crossed out and amended with a note to ‘see page 37’.

 

“I didn’t go to London.”

 

“What?”

 

“That first year of sixth form when I ran away from boarding school. I only ever went to see my sister.”

 

“How’d you keep from getting caught?” It was a whole week he’d been unaccounted for.

 

“In plain sight mostly. We used to look really similar.”

 

“What changed your mind?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“You went back eventually. Why?”

 

“Hokuto.” He said with a fond smile. Something about Subaru changed. He sat up straight. Tilted his nose up. When his voice lilted and bounced Seishiro understood he was mimicking the absent sister. “You’re too good to give up now! You have to try your hardest, baby brother!” The affect melted away, at first to a smile, but then that slipped too. “She said it would be worth the loneliness.” He shook his head. “Who trains that hard to play _viola_?”

 

Seishiro wasn't sure what to say. Presumably _someone_ had to, right? But it wasn't like Subaru had ended up playing symphonic music anyway, so...

 

Subaru didn't give him much time to ponder it. He looked down suddenly, flipping forward a few more pages. “You said this was the official version. Where’s the rest?”

 

Seishiro was quiet at first, but when the pause drew Subaru’s attention he tapped at his temple. “All up here. It’s best not to create a paper trail when it doesn’t lead anywhere good.”

 

Subaru didn’t press. It was difficult not to know what people knew about you, but if the alternative was to definitely know… For now he would just pretend anything not accounted for was still private. “What’s it going to take, for you to trust me?”

 

Seishiro looked up at him, his own inability to answer surprising him. His first instinct was to claim that he _did_ trust him but… He normally didn’t need trust. He had contingency plans instead. So what did that make this?

 

Subaru set the binder aside, a gentle but firm look on his face. “You have to share me, Seishiro. With my friends and my family. My bandmates and colleagues. And every time I walk onstage you have to share me with thousands of fans. At any given time there is the population of a small country that I am beholden to. I want to be with you, but if you can’t handle that…” Subaru held up his empty hands. Nothing else to offer.

 

Seishiro stared at them: Petite. Soft palms. Callused fingertips. “I don’t mean to get possessive like this." He said softly,  "But when I see how close you are with them… I’m not…” Seishiro stopped and tried again. “It’s not always easy for me to see the distinction between friendship and… more.”

 

Subaru winced, but not unkindly. “And here I’ve ignored that line for so long I’ve sort of forgotten where it is.” Then in a smaller voice. “We probably deserve each other.” It wasn’t like Seishiro had been looking away, but that had certainly caught his attention. Subaru continued. “Kamui and Fuuma. Sometimes if things aren’t going well, they’ll still get me down to subspace. Whatever it takes to help me through it. And not just that. They’re there for me, you know?” There were so many lines crossing in that relationship: Personal, professional, submissive, not to mention his mental health and happiness. It would be an absolute lie to say he didn’t want and need them, but it was in a different way from what he wanted with Seishiro. “Sorry I couldn’t have given you something a little more conventional.”

 

Seishiro smiled grimly. As if he would have been any better at ‘conventional’.

 

“Honestly, you don’t have to worry about them." Subaru said, sensing his doubt. "I’m not interested in them that way.” Subaru didn’t really understand how anyone could not see that. If he wanted to be with them, he would be. But he wasn’t, so obviously he didn’t. What more proof could a person need?

 

“Right.” Seishiro said dryly. “You just cuddle and scene and let them fondle you on stage _platonically_?”

 

Well, ok, fair point. But still, he wasn’t _wrong_. “Yes?” Subaru snapped defensively, waiting for the next barb. He usually had a rock solid belief in his own ethics, especially when it came to love and sex. That self-respect had been hard won and he didn’t appreciate the way Seishiro was picking at it. Especially right after an experience that had left so many parts of him unstable.

 

Seishiro sat back in his chair, hands folding over his chest. “And you thought I was strange.”

 

“You _are_ strange.” Subaru was quick to say, quiet, but unmistakable. He hooked his foot around the armrest of the chair and pulled it in, trapping Seishiro between his legs. “And for some reason that I can not for the life of me figure out, I like it.”

 

He slid off the desk, climbing into Seishiro’s lap, each shin easing between the armrests and the outside of the older man's thighs. Even in that initial contact, he was already feeling more grounded. It was a tight fit, but Subaru was determined. Seishiro didn’t react beyond raising a hand to his hips to help balance him. He tipped his head back a little, having to look up to meet Subaru’s eyes in the new position.

 

“I think you might feel a little more secure in this relationship,” Subaru said, hands tracing down Seishiro's shoulders, voice obvious with suggestion. “When it stops being so theoretical.”

 

Seishiro swallowed visibly, muscle working against his crisp collar. His hand shifted, thumb hooking into Subaru’s back pocket while the rest of his fingers spread out, groping at the flesh there through the denim. When his actions coaxed a needy hum out of the young man, he grinned, more at ease with this turn of events than the previous discussions. “This chair isn’t very stable.” He warned.

 

“Then try not to squirm too much.” Subaru breathed against his mouth as his hand slipped under Seishiro’s waistband.

 

He inhaled sharply as Subaru’s slender fingers wrapped around his length, then with a smooth pressure, drug his hand back, pressing the for-now soft flesh between his palm and Sieshiro’s stomach. It was a simple gesture, but that wasn’t what was taking his breath away.

 

No, it was the look on Subaru’s face that had done that. He'd done an admirable job of keeping it together the past hour or so, but now... The artist wasn’t looking at him, or at least not into his eyes. Instead his half-lidded gaze was falling at Seishiro’s neck, but even there they were a little unseeing. Subaru wasn’t weak. He knew that. Had seen enough of this young man’s history to know he was a survivor. But the defenselessness written across his face in this moment. The raw fear and desperation. Kamui and Fuuma had done their best to patch over Subaru’s wounded psyche but there wasn’t anything they could do that could shake the bone deep existential panic after such a visceral reminder of his own mortality.

 

But still Subaru was trying. Trying to fill that cold vacuum with the heat of another. Trying to distract with a different type of desperation.

 

It was beyond defenseless. It was barely conscious. It was a survival instinct that made him reach out mindlessly, demanding that his hurts be soothed, risks be damned.

 

Seishiro was in awe.

 

When Subaru attacked his mouth, he met him tongue for tongue and teeth for teeth, his legs pressing wide on the floor, keeping them balanced. All the while Subaru’s clever fingers worked at his cock, the strokes firm and generous. Just once he tried to thrust into his grip but the chair wasn’t made for forces like that and after a precarious few moments he resigned himself to Subaru’s mercy.

 

He dug his fingertips in where they had been tracing the seam of Subaru’s backside and the young man moaned appreciatively into the knot that was their sparring tongues.

 

What a delicious mercy to submit to.

 

But it seemed Subaru wasn’t finding the same satisfaction with their positioning. With his hands kneading at Subaru’s hips and reaching around to tease his entrance with pressure through denim, he could follow his movements, and it was obvious that Subaru was searching for friction, something he could press against. But pulling back far enough to rut against Seishiro’s knee would pull him away from the kiss, and pressing forward to grind against his chest would mean pulling his hand away from Seishiro’s cock, neither of which were apparently acceptable at the moment. Anything in between left him tortuously hovering with the way his shins had been locked into place against the sides of the chair. It occurred to Seishiro that he could relieve that desperation with the touch of a hand, but he took to teasing the young man’s inner thighs with feather-light touches instead. Perhaps a bit cruelly, if the fresh tears hot on his cheeks were anything to go by.

 

Subaru ripped away from the kiss, eyes screwed shut against crying more. “Please!” It was more sob than whine and all desperation. “Seishiro. More, please.” He sucked in a quick, shaky breath. “I need you!” All the while Subaru was still touching him, pumping his shaft with one hand and tracing his thumb in circles across the head with the other.

 

Seishiro hissed through his teeth, the pleasure cutting through him so intensely. Subaru was grimacing, not so much bracing against the frustration, as suffering through it. Long eyelashes were wet with the escaped tears that had turned his eyes red and hot. He was supposed to be protecting this man. It was his entire purpose on this tour. In this very room were all the tools and resources he needed to make that happen. And yet, here he sat, relishing the pain and desperation written across his charge’s face.

 

In his defense, it made for a _very_ pretty picture.

 

Seishiro brought his hands up to hold Subaru’s head, hands cradling him by the jaw and wrapping around his neck to the back of his head. There was no blood in his hair anymore. It must have been washed out some time in the past hour. Green eyes blinked open. “I want you to wait.” Seishiro said calmly.

 

“Wait for wha-ahhh!”

 

Seishiro stood, holding Subaru by his thighs and shattering the illusion that he’d ever been anything but perfectly in control of the situation. Subaru clung to him out of reflex, but a hand to his chest pried the musician away and pinned him to his desk. Subaru was looking up at him in raw shock and betrayal. Seishiro just stood still, waiting as he watched Subaru’s expression settle as his consciousness caught up to the change. No, Seishiro hadn’t gone anywhere. Yes, everything was still fine.

 

Seishiro belatedly noticed he’d laid Subaru down with the small of his back over the edge of his closed laptop. It probably wasn’t comfortable but at least the corners were rounded.

 

“Seishiro.” Subaru wasn’t crying anymore. The hope of expectation, probably. Poor thing.

 

“Not yet.” Seishiro said calmly as he rounded the corner of his desk, hand still holding Subaru down at his chest.  
  
“What are you doing?” Subaru gasped, but he was quick to get his answer.  Two hands hooked under his arms and pulled until his head slid off the edge of the desk, falling back and looking straight at Seishiro’s hard cock. A hand was running along his neck, thumb tracing down from the tip of his chin along every bump of his trachea, his intention absolutely clear.

 

“Seishiro!”

 

The hand curled back, picking up his head, supporting him so Seishiro could meet his eye. “Hmm?”

 

“I- The concert! I have to sing!” Subaru was wide-eyed as he looked up at him.

 

“So?”

 

“So-!” Subaru blanched. Swallowed. “So… be careful, I guess.” He finished weakly.

 

Seishiro just grinned. It was the last thing Subaru saw before his head fell back again. He felt more than saw the man bend over him, kiss his chest. “You can trust me.” Was murmured into his sternum followed by a rolling chuckle. Then he stood up, bringing his length to Subaru’s lips.

 

He started slowly, getting acquainted with soft kisses to the head and shy, little licks, even growing bold enough to tease against Seishiro’s slit with the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t satisfying, but it was a pleasant enough way to pass the time. And it was just as well. Subaru was breathing way too hard for what he had planned. They could both stand to calm down a little before he really got started.

 

He traced his hands over the other’s neck with light touches this time. Reverent. He followed those tendons down to collarbones and beyond, Subaru’s skin framed so enticingly against the v-neck of his black t shirt. Then he pushed further, the cotton giving way to his hand, tracing over the subtle musculature of Subaru's chest. There was a soft groan vibrating against his cock as his his fingers found bruise. The bruise he’d put there himself. You could make out his hand print if you squinted.

 

Seishiro swallowed, resisting the pleasure. “Are you ok?”

 

“Yeah.” Subaru panted against him.

 

“Do you like this shirt?”

 

“I don’t know.” Subaru murmured, confused. “It’s just a black t-shirt.”

 

Seishiro picked out the pair of scissors from his pencil holder and set the blunt edge against Subaru’s chest, catching the fabric. In one smooth motion he pushed them down to his waistband curving only to avoid his belly button, cutting the shirt open, the better to see him and the extent of his bruising. Like skinning an animal, Seishiro thought to himself with a smile, only in reverse.

 

Without the sight for context, the cold steel moving against his skin and the hiss of the ripping fabric shocked Subaru. He swore under his breath while his entire body tensed. It was only as Seishiro pushed the fabric to the sides and ran his hands along his chest and abdomen that he relaxed with a whimper, a heady dose of adrenaline hitting his nervous system.

Overwhelmed by the feeling and desperate for something else to focus on, Subaru wrapped his lips around the head of his cock and asked wordlessly for more as he dragged at him with a light suction. Seishiro stepped a little closer, only too happy to oblige. He let Subaru control the movements, the young man’s hand’s a guiding force at his hips. He’d done this before, Seishiro could tell. But it was a little clumsy, like it had been a while. There were a few false starts, and a small coughing fit, but then it happened. One moment his cock was pressing against the back of his throat and the next Subaru was opening for him, swallowing around him as he drew him deeper. Seishiro groaned, the intense heat and pressure like heaven on his searing arousal. “Subaru…” The young man swallowed again and this time he slipped even lower, his thumb, resting just below Subaru’s chin, could feel it: His own cock against his hand with only the delicate tissue of Subaru’s throat to separate them. He pressed down lightly, against Subaru’s skin and against himself, luxuriating in the feeling as Subaru swallowed twice more around him.

 

Then he was pushed back again and Subaru was gasping for breath. “That ok?” Subaru asked between breaths. 

 

“It’s _perfect_.” He answered, pleasure and appreciation frank in everything about his manner and tone.

 

Subaru huffed a tiny laugh under his breath. “I want you to do it. I want you to set the pace. You can’t thrust, but I want you to do that at least.”

 

Seishiro nodded, everything about the world soft and slow with arousal at the moment. “Ok.”

 

They went a few more rounds with Subaru’s hands for guidance, but Seishiro was a quick learner, soon anticipating the movements and Subaru let his hands fall away. From there Seishiro was doing his own experimentation. Three swallows between breaks gave Subaru a comfortable inhalation. Four swallows meant he was gasping. Five and he needed a break before the next go. Seishiro settled on a rhythm of four, the sound of Subaru's struggle for oxygen such a sweet counter point to the constriction of his throat. 

 

Subaru was still hard in his jeans. It was plain as day to see the way his length was straining against the denim. His hips were rocking and his thighs squirming together, desperate for at least the pressure of the tight fabric against him. He kept trying to get a footing on the desk, but there just wasn’t room and his boots kept sliding off the edge. He made do with planting his feet on the chair, but even that wasn’t something he could push against, mounted on wheels as it was.

 

His really nice, expensive chair that was currently getting covered in dusty foot prints.

 

Oh, well.

 

His eyes raked back over the pale form of Subaru writhing, panting, swallowing beneath him. The way his ribs shifted under the skin. The little twitches in his abs. That beautiful red bruise over his heart. 

 

It was just a chair.

 

He wondered in that surreal sort of detached state, how long it would take for Subaru to realize he could just reach down with his own hands, now that he didn’t need them at Seishiro’s hips.

 

Longer than he was willing to wait apparently.

 

He laughed, charmed by Subaru’s lapse. He drug a finger lightly across his palm where it lay against the desk, reminding him it existed. Then he pet down, from belly button to zipper. Subaru got the picture pretty quickly after that palming himself though his jeans with an arch of his back and a mewl caught in his throat.

 

Seishiro just watched as Subaru rubbed himself and each breath (Every third swallow now. Subaru was breathing harder.) started coming from between his legs with a decidedly heated keen.

 

But enough of that. With the ease of his position he drew Subaru’s hands away, pinning them back to the desk on either side. Subaru _could_ touch himself. That didn’t mean he was going to _let_ him.

 

The young man protested weakly, or at least, that was what he assumed the clenched fists and groan were about. But he watched those restrained hands for a signal to stop, and it didn’t come. So instead he leaned forward, his position and extra few inches of height making it perfectly comfortable to brace himself against the desk and nuzzle into Subaru’s crotch. With the new angle he couldn’t slip down Subaru’s throat anymore, but with the way the unrestrained, “Mmmm!” of the musician’s surprise vibrated around him, he did not miss it a bit. Subaru had more freedom now and he was determined to use it, slurping at him with uninhibited vigor, Working him between tongue and hard palate, wrapping his lips low around him and _sucking_ and-

 

And Seishiro could not wait another moment. He didn’t rip Subaru’s pants open, but it was a close thing. If the zipper had stuck he’d have been right back with the scissors again. As it was the button slid free and Subaru’s hands came down to help. Between the both of them there was enough coordination to push the constricting fabric down, trapped around his ankles by the boots. Subaru’s thighs were open wide in invitation but even so, Seishiro pushed them apart that little bit further. He paused, finally confronted with Subaru’s hard and ready cock, straining for him. He took a careful breath. Another one. Then parted his lips, swallowing down to the base.

 

 

Subaru arched under him instantly, crying out around his own length. Both his hands slammed into the table, fingernails scratching helplessly at the faux wood grain, knocking his pencil holder off the desk on one side and gripping at what ever he could find with the other. There was a hiss of ripped paper and Seishiro glanced to the side, mildly curious what Subaru had found. A black and white photo showed it to be a page he’d ripped out of his own background check, caught under the fingers of the pleasure-spasming hand, now crumpled and holes torn. ‘Careful, Subaru.’ He thought as he started bobbing up and down mercilessly. ‘There goes that Summer you spent in Iceland.”

 

He pushed the binder off the desk and it crashed with a thud. The papers might get bent from the landing, but then at least Subaru wouldn’t be tempted to tear any more pages out. In fact…

 

He found Subaru’s hands and guided them around the backs of his own thighs.

 

…yes, much better.

 

Each time he hollowed his cheeks around Subaru, the young man’s tensing could be felt in the way his blunt nails dug into his upper thighs. And now that he wasn’t deep enough to hurt his throat, Subaru pulled him into thrusting against the warmth of his mouth. But he couldn’t match the speed Seishiro could get on his own, so even that stopped as he just let him move within him, humming in pleasure whenever Seishiro did anything particularly kind with his own mouth.

 

It wasn’t going to last much longer now. Seishiro had barely gotten started on his repertoire, but Subaru had been through a lot in the past few hours and was all the more responsive for it. And Seishiro… It was only iron will and mental discipline that had let him last this long in the first place. If Subaru was going to come, (and he _was_. Seishiro could feel it in the tension of his thighs, the hitching in his breath and the bitter taste on his tongue.) then they were going to come together.

 

Of course he was feeling it. Was fighting every moment to resist the sensation pulling him toward completion as Subaru hummed around him, but he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d forced Subaru there first. He concentrated everything he had into giving Subaru the heat, suction and speed he needed. Keeping the tempo building as he felt Subaru break. A gasp. A false start. A strained moan. Then the real thing. His legs kicked out, pushing over the chair as they spasmed helplessly, just as the rest of his body was arched, taut in pleasure, spilling moans out of his mouth and something else across Seishiro’s tongue. It was euphoric. Beautiful. Something Seishiro swore he could feel himself. It was more than enough to let go to. A different pleasure hit him. One burning between his thighs and of a quality all his own. He groaned around Subaru’s still leaking length as it washed over him, catching and swallowing every last drop. When even that had come to an end, he pulled off and shifted, closing his eyes and nuzzling lazily through the aftershocks, into the delicate skin where Subaru’s pelvis became thigh. With a hand on each side of his hips to hold him down, he left two wet, sucking kisses as Subaru whined and whimpered beneath him, his body tender and oversensitive. When the young man couldn’t take anymore, he pulled back, admiring each of the networks of bruised capillaries he’d left behind with a soothing lick. Then he finally rested, using Subaru’s upper thigh as a pillow.

 

For a long time they stayed like that.

 

Just catching their breaths. When Subaru pulled away, letting Seishiro’s cock fall out of his mouth, the man shifted, stepping away, picking up his head again, just as he had right before they’d begun. Subaru was flushed, brow sweaty. His eyes were bloodshot from… well, any number of things really. Probably a combination of all of them. Green eyes blinked up at him and with the next labored breath, a small smile broke across his face. “Good?” Subaru asked, half still lost in his own body and half smug that he already knew the answer.

 

Seishiro just sighed, grinning and content. He didn’t miss the way Subaru’s hand had quested down, shyly touching a hicky he’d just left behind, pressing against it lightly to test the soreness. “Your throat ok?” Seishiro asked.

 

Subaru swallowed, paid attention to the sensation. “I think so. If not, I’ll know by tomorrow.”

 

The hand against the back of Subaru’s head shifted and before he knew it, he was getting picked up off the desk and carried to one of the plush chairs where Seishiro sat them both down, Subaru cradled in his lap. A hand was already at the nape of his neck, massaging away what probably would have been the most intense neck crick of all time. Subaru relaxed against Seishiro’s shirt-covered chest and luxuriated in the pleasant tingling it sent down his whole spine.

 

It was nice, and he let it go on long minutes, but then his craving for a different comfort grew stronger. He reached up, a caress against Seishiro’s chin all the older man needed as prompting, before leaning in to kiss him sweetly and soundly, arms wrapped around him, solid, warm, and heavy.

 

Safe.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, this chapter. <3

The next few hours were not the easiest. Doumeki kept hovering and Watanuki became annoyed with the overprotective behavior. When he brought it up it lead to a small fight about whether or not Watanuki had ever been in danger. Doumeki insisted Kurogane had been out of control but Watanuki was just as sure, and had the advantage of familiarity to fall back on, that Kurogane, despite his posturing, had done just what he was supposed to do during a fit of anger, which was do anything but hurt someone. Still unsatisfied, Doumeki demanded more context. Reluctantly, Watanuki gave a bit more of the man’s history, but it seemed to help put Doumeki’s mind at ease. It had been a known issue and Doumeki and Kazahaya had been the only ones present without the experience to read the situation.

 

Not that Doumeki thought it excused the behavior. When Watanuki assured him that Kurogane was probably thinking the exact same thing, they fell into an uneasy truce on the subject. Spending some hours apart while Watanuki ran errands for Yuuko helped to ease the tension.

 

Time Doumeki used to invite Himawari out to wander Tokyo. It wasn’t her first time to the city, but she’d never been when she wasn’t working, so she was happy to visit all the tourist attractions they’d normally never have time to see. Most of the day was spent standing in lines and passing the time in increasingly comfortable conversation but there were the moments of breathtaking beauty. Then their time would be up and they’d travel to the next attraction and the next line. They tried not to talk business, but as always, things came back around to Yuuko and her band. There was an old documentary on Crossroad Karma airing tonight and it was Himawari’s idea to have dinner together while they watched it. Doumeki volunteered his apartment as it had the best TV and his couch was already set up for it.

 

When Doumeki summoned a worn-out Watanuki to his room with a text, he wasn’t ready to be greeted by the love of his life proudly setting out a feast on the coffee table.

 

“Himawari! I didn’t know you’d be here. You made dinner!?” He beamed, munching on half a dumpling. “This is wonderful! I didn’t know you cooked.”

 

“I don’t.” She laughed, the sound like sunshine incarnate to Watanuki’s ears. “It’s just some street food we ran into on the way home.”

 

“Oh!” Watanuki stumbled. “Well, you certain have plated it beautifully. You really have an appreciation for the aesthetics of Japanese Cuisine. I wouldn’t be surprised to see photography of this table in a cooking magazine or something.”

 

She waved off the compliment taking a spot on one end of the couch. “That was Doumeki, actually.”

 

“Oh.” His face fell into a glare for the man in question as he passed by to take his seat.

 

“Thanks.” Doumeki said levelly, taking the other armrest.

 

“For what?” He asked with a scowl.

 

“Just glad you appreciate my aesthetics.” He said dryly, eyes not leaving the screen.

 

“Yeah!? Well don’t get too full of yourself. It’s-”

 

“Oi!” Doumeki cut him off him with a look. “Sit down. You’re blocking the TV.”

 

Watanuki was winding up for another rant but was interrupted by Himawari stifling a laugh behind a hand. They both turned to look at her.

 

“Sorry,” She smiled sheepishly. “I just forgot how funny you two are around each other.”

 

Watanuki was about to deny anything of the sort, but Yuuko’s voice sounded from the TV and he hurried to put his plate together and…

 

Oh. Right.

 

There was only one cushion left on the couch. But this wasn’t anything to panic over. ‘You can do it, Kimihiro.’ He told himself, very gingerly sliding into place, Doumeki sitting on his left, Himawari lounging against her armrest, legs tucked up to her side on the right.

 

No big deal.

 

Just the girl he’d been in love with for years, and the guy who’d been pining after him for months and who had spent most of last night reducing him to jelly. They were just sitting together. In a darkened room. On a couch. Alone.

 

This was fine.

 

Doumeki shifted, his thigh brushing against his own casually.

 

Absolutely fine, he told himself a little more forcefully. As long as he kept a death grip on his mug, no one would even see the slight tremor in his hands.

 

Watanuki sat very primly. His posture forced into into rigidity by wanting to give Himawari as much room as possible, not wanting anything to be misconstrued on the right and on the left not wanting anything about his situation with Doumeki to be un-misconstrued. ‘accurately construed’? Whatever.

 

Or at least that had been his intention.

 

Because the documentary really was distracting, all the more interesting because for each segment there was almost always some story one of them would share from personal experience. And then there was the requisite cooing over the twins that were still so young in all the old videos. Or Watanuki and Himawari might have to hurriedly explain some cultural nuance that just wasn’t quite coming across in the subtitles. The cherry on top were the advertisements, so novel and some so confounding they were entertaining in their own right. At some point Himawari’s feet found their way onto his lap and Doumeki had an arm on the back of the couch in a way that was almost but not quite around his shoulder.

 

Eventually the documentary ended, but the upcoming show seemed interesting enough, the couch was comfortable and the company pleasant. No one was in a rush to go, so game shows it was. Himawari volunteered to retrieve their desserts from the freezer. Doumeki dropped some teasing remark and that’s when Watanuki finally slipped.

 

It wasn’t any one thing. It was leaning just a little to close to bicker with him. It was the familiar way his hand lingered on his chest after he’d poked it accusingly into the other man’s sternum. Maybe it was even a little bit the way his small tantrum had earned him only a fond smile in return. They were all just small things but together they added up and Himawari faltered, suddenly unsure if she was intruding.

 

Watanuki froze as he realized his mistake, eyes wide and mouth hanging open a little as the words just didn’t come.

 

“Oh!” Himawari’s brain caught up faster. “Are you two…?” She stood back hesitantly, balancing three bowls of ice cream in two hands.

 

“Um…” This hadn’t been the plan. Not that they’d _had_ a plan to speak of beyond, ‘wait’. But still, he’d had a vague notion of romance. A little spectacle. Roses. A restaurant?

 

Not take out, a boring apartment and slowly melting dessert.

 

Watanuki glanced back at Doumeki. He was looking at him deadpan, a single eyebrow arched. Not a denial, but ready to play into one if Watanuki decided to go that route.

 

“Well… Um… You see…” God, why was his voice so high!? Why couldn’t he get his shoulders to stop trembling? “I mean it’s not anything… you know… we’re just…” Fuck! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all. “…but he’s not so terrible once you get to know him…” What was she going to think!? “…and I don’t even like burritos so you know that has to mean something, right? Anyway…” Wait. Wait, what!? Shit! What was he even saying anymore? Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! “…but I wouldn’t, you know…”

 

 _Finally_ the torture ended and he lapsed into merciful silence. Had _any_ of that made sense?

 

Based on the confounded look on Himawari’s face, it hadn’t. He wished he could clarify, but he had no idea what he’d just said either. Very carefully he turned back to Doumeki, silently asking for help.

 

Who settled a hand on his shoulder, giving the tiniest of reassuring squeezes as he looked over to Himawari. “He means ‘Yes.’ We are.”

 

“Oh!” Her eyebrows shot up. Watanuki buried his face in his hands, cheeks as red as Doumeki had ever seen before. Then she took the smallest step back, still awkwardly holding the bowls. “Should I…?” She nodded towards the door, her long curls shifting around her shoulders. “I mean, I guess it’s gotten pretty late, right?”

 

“No!” Watanuki reached out to her. He wasn’t close enough to actually catch her, but the gesture was clear enough. “No, um… that’s not really the whole story…” On his shoulder the hand tensed, then immediately relaxed into a soothing pressure. Watanuki hesitated but Doumeki didn’t jump in to stop him. “…because who is to say what ‘normal’ is right? We just… we thought…” No! No, it was happening again! This is why he needed to plan these sort of things. “…and we met this really nice family a few days ago…” What was he even saying? And why couldn’t he stop? “…and there is so much to miss out on…” Is this what it felt like to have a stroke? Was he having a stroke? If they called the ambulance, would he have to deal with any of this anymore? “…so… there are just… there’s a lot of possibilities, do you know what I mean?”

 

Himawari’s face answered pretty clearly, ‘No?’. She looked back to Doumeki for help translating the rambling again. “So… you’re… open?” She hazarded.

 

It was very possible that Doumeki’s firm hand on Watanuki’s shoulder was the only thing keeping him from shriveling up and crawling under a bed.

 

“We’re open,” Doumeki clarified. “If _you_ are interested.”

 

Watanuki watched the expressions shift across her face in soul-crushing anticipation as she understood. And then again as she _understood_.

 

“Oh.”

 

Watanuki couldn’t stand it. Why was she still holding the stupid ice cream? This was possibly the most important conversation in his young life and she was spending it holding ice cream!?

 

“Like a casual sort of-?”

 

“No.” Doumeki said, not particularly forceful, but it sounded so in such a delicate moment. “Not casual at all.”

 

“I…” She blinked down at them. “I don’t know.”

 

“That’s fine!” Watanuki had finally found his voice, reaching up to take the bowls from her, setting them aside on the table where they could finish melting in peace. He scooted slightly to the side, not really making much more room but gesturing an offer for her to sit down. “We don’t want to put you under any pressure or anything.”

 

“This is really sudden.” But she wasn’t frowning.

 

“I know!” It made no sense but Watanuki was suddenly feeling… giddy? He still didn’t have an answer, but after so much time worrying about it, his (their) secret was finally out. It wasn’t in his hands anymore. He felt free. Floating. “Take all the time you need. Don’t worry about us, ok?”

 

She gave him a small smile that broke into something more beaming. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. “Ok.”

 

And to think he’d been dreading this conversation! He should have known; Anything to do with his dear, sweet Himawari was going to be wonderful. When was the last time he’d felt this happy? She hadn’t even given him a ‘yes’ and he found it didn’t even matter. As long as she was here and smiling at him with those eyes so dark in color and so bright in expression he could-

 

“Hey, this melted. You guys want more?” Doumkei was swirling a bowl of cream with a spoon.

 

“HOW ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT FOOD RIGHT NOW!? What is _wrong_ with you!?”

 

Doumeki just looked at them a little guardedly for a moment. “I’m going to get us more ice cream.”

 

Watanuki gaped at him in horror. “Fine! Do it, but don’t come back!” He turned to Himawari, expression shifting one hundred and eighty degrees. “Please ignore him. He’s terrible. I’m not sure why.”

 

But Himawari was just laughing at them behind a hand. Watanuki felt utterly disarmed. He glanced back at the kitchen and Doumeki shot him a tiny grin before disappearing behind the freezer door.

 

He came back with the promised dessert and they continued to watch game shows and eat what Watanuki had guessed was strawberry but turned out to be peach ice cream. It was all so incredibly, suspiciously calm, but nice and warm and wonderful in a way Watanuki didn’t have the words to describe. By the time they were finishing their desserts, the programming switched over to Iron Chef competitions that had to date back at least three decades if the sequined blazers and fluffy hair was any indication. And it wasn’t like Watanuki meant to, but one of the chefs was letting their duck get criminally overcooked and yes, maybe he did yell at the TV a little but it was getting so dry and wouldn’t _anyone_ find that upsetting?

 

He was the last to finish eating. (The complaining had slowed him down compared to his companions.) He didn't expect the shift in Doumeki’s posture as he set his bowl down. The other man pulled one leg up and leaned back against the armrest, an open if completely unsubtle invitation to sit against him. There was an incredibly awkward moment as Watanuki looked to him, then back at Himawari.

 

 _Really_?

 

They all seemed to share the same deer-in-the-headlights uncertainty.

 

But it wasn’t like there was anything to hide anymore, right? So Watanuki eased closer to the other man, avoiding his eye as if that might make the decision less real, and settled carefully into the embrace of his legs, leaning back against his chest.

 

See? He could do this. Just him and Doumeki being a couple. Doing normal couple things like sitting on a couch together watching bad television. Nothing to panic about.

 

He hadn’t expected Himawari to follow him. The noise he made…

 

…it was not dignified.

 

“Sorry!” She froze. “Should I not?” She cringed and pulled back a little, hands finding a strand of curls to worry contritely.

 

But, no! Of course she shouldn’t not! There was no way Watanuki could deny her anything and least of all this. “No! Sorry, yes. Please-” Watanuki stammered. Held out a hand and laughed nervously. “No, of course you can. I’m so sorry, I’m just… I’m extremely nervous.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. “That would- That would make me very happy.” He finished lamely, hoping he hadn’t just scared her off.

 

She watched him carefully, smile becoming a little less uncertain as the seconds ticked by. “Um… ok.” She nodded and then approached slowly, treating Watanuki like the spooked animal he very much was.

 

By degrees she positioned herself over Watanuki and for an instant it seemed she was going to settle between his legs the way he was currently cradled by Doumeki and he just-

 

Himawari. Between his legs.

 

It wasn’t like his thoughts turned to the suggestive. There wasn’t the chance as all faculties were currently occupied by mental white noise and internal screaming. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but whatever it was he sure felt it _a lot_.

 

But that cataclysm never came to pass. Himawari mercifully nudged his knee to the side and in moments they were cuddled together, her head resting on his chest as she lay on her side, spooning around his hips and tangling their shins together.

 

Somewhere, outside of the incoherent mess that was his brain at the moment, time was passing. The TV went through an entire cycle of commercials bringing them back to mistreated duck. And yet… How could this be happening? How could _any_ of this be real!?

 

OK.

 

Ok.

 

Breathe in.

 

Breathe out.

 

Watanuki tried to still the tremors running though his entire body and, failing that, did the next best thing, which was to resolutely pretend they weren’t happening. Himawari and Doumeki did him the service of playing along.

 

Slowly, his mind calmed down and though his body didn’t follow suit right away, he could feel it starting to recede. And what was left was…

 

…wonderful?

 

He was surrounded on all sides by the people he loved (‘liked very much!’ Some part of him desperately amended.), still tasting sweet peach on his tongue, shifting with each of his companions’ breaths and watching truly awful television.

 

He closed his eyes, taking a slow breath, overwhelmed by it all. How could a person be so lucky?

 

He shifted again, only now truly relaxing into the two-sided embrace. As he settled he and Doumeki reached at the same time to rest a hand in Himawari’s curls. They both paused, surprised by each other. Doumeki was glad Watanuki couldn’t see the look on his face as he fisted his hand and retreated, leaving that particular touch for Watanuki to experience on his own. He watched as thin, pale fingers tentatively ran along the crown of her head. She looked up and smiled, giving a small, contented “Mmm!” as she turned back to the television. Doumeki had to close his eyes tight, not daring to touch Watanuki with his hands right now, but allowing himself to nuzzle into the back of his head, pressing a chaste kiss into the strands before forcing himself away.

 

The first time she dozed off, it was something she slipped in and out of without noticing, but after the second she caught herself. “I should…” She tried again after clearing her throat, less groggy this time. “I should get going.” She pulled away with an easy grace and Watanuki was up to follow her to the door without a second thought.

 

“Sure.”

 

She turned catching Watanuki’s hand and held it, a shy gesture but weighty with significance. “Tonight was nice.” She smiled, not retreating as Watanuki drew closer and closer, like some piece of space rock caught helplessly in her orbit.

 

It was obvious, Doumeki thought from where he was still watching from the couch. Inevitable. People who weren’t madly in love didn’t look at each other like that. He waited, so sure they would close that final distance, but one of them (He couldn’t tell who. Perhaps it had been both.) found restraint, raising their clasped hands between them. Whatever instinct was telling them to do got redirected into the way they carefully squeezed each other’s fingers.

“Yeah.”

 

“Maybe…” It was torturous the way they were still trying to play this off lightly. “Maybe we could spend more time together tomorrow?”

 

Watanuki bit a lip trying not to grin so wide. “That would be nice.”

 

She pulled her hand away but didn’t go anywhere. At last she seemed to remember they weren’t the only two people in the room. “See you tomorrow Doumeki?” She caught her breath as the tension eased.

 

He gave a little salute. “See you at work.”

 

Her face dropped. Watanuki was turned to watch him too and missed it, but Doumeki could see her clearly despite the low lighting, and it twisted his gut. Then the smile was back, such a good copy, that he wouldn’t have noticed the falseness of it if he hadn’t just seen her falter.

 

“Are you-?”

 

“Good night!” She waved, cheery as she slipped out the door.

 

It was like the room dropped ten degrees.

 

An entirely oblivious Watanuki landed back in his lap, this time on his stomach and sans glasses so he could muffle his excited screams in Doumeki’s tshirt.

 

“That went so well! She-! Doumeki, thank you!”

 

He should… He should tell him right? Or maybe it had been nothing? Was he over reacting? Doumeki let a hand fall across his back. “'Thank you' for what?”

 

“Don’t be dumb!” Watanuki snapped, but he was still grinning ear to ear and his voice was strained with his attempt to keep it even.

 

It was best not to panic until he was sure there was something to panic over, right? “I didn’t really do anything. I mean, once I offered, you did everything else.”

 

Watanuki slithered up his body, trying to glare and bite down a smile at the same time. “If I could have done that on my own, don’t you thing I would have sometime over the past four years?”

 

“Four years?” Oh god.

 

“Yes!” Watanuki’s face broke into something softer. “So thank you.”

 

Doumeki bit his tongue in more ways than one as Watanuki nuzzled back towards his ear and started kissing down his neck.

 

It was just a look. Just for a moment. That didn’t have to mean much of anything. Like when a chunk of snow fell down the back of your coat. It felt so much worse than it actually was. Such was the chill down his spine now after such a warm and easy evening. It wasn’t like it was going to kill him, even if in those first few moments of surprise it might feel like it.

 

He needed to think about this rationally. (Which was getting a little hard to do with the thing Watanuki was currently doing to his earlobe.) Watanuki and Himawari loved each other. That much had been obvious in the first few weeks of meeting them. And obviously Watanuki was _in_ love with her. And now… it was looking like that part of it was reciprocated as well.

 

He groaned as a hand slipped up his side under the soft cotton.

 

And really… How could she not be in love with him? The cute way he sputtered when he got angry. How his voice would break if he got too excited. How indignant he got at the slightest suggestion that he might need help.

 

Wow.

 

Those were all terrible examples.

 

Watanuki sat back on his hips, both arms braced against Doumeki’s chest, face flushed and beaming.

 

And yet.

 

It was then that Doumeki decided, whatever was going to happen, whatever Himawari chose, whatever their future held, it wasn’t going to ruin tonight.

 

“Hey,” Doumeki sat up to meet him. “Come to bed with me?” It wasn’t a whisper but it didn’t disturb the hush of the room.

 

Watanuki just laughed lightly before answering, grinning lips just barely grazing Doumeki’s own. “I’d love to.”

 

It was probably inevitable, given the situation, that tonight should be slow and thorough where yesterday had been fast and desperate. If this could be their last-

 

No. No, he wasn’t going to think about it.

 

Suffice to say he didn’t want to miss anything.

 

He pushed Watanuki down into the covers, stripping off his own tshirt before leaning down to unbutton Watanuki’s. He kissed along the skin as he exposed it, tongue and teeth lightly dragging across the bruises that he so very desperately hoped wouldn’t out last his own place in Watanuki’s bed.

 

He moved slow, reverent, fingers tracing every curve, every inch of his lover’s body. Memorizing, just in case. Their courtship had been so long, that he’d learned to ignore the emotional limbo they’d been thrown into, as if the sheer force of wanting it to be true could have given him a more stable spot by his side. As if that willful ignorance didn’t come at a price.

 

He pulled back, sliding Watanuki’s legs free of material and kissing the inside of his knee where it rested on his shoulder.

 

And now all he could do was wait to see if fate decided to cash that check.

 

They moved together, sensual and reverent, Doumeki shifting inside of him and Watanuki wrapping limbs around him, holding him close. If Doumeki was acting strange, Watanuki didn’t say anything. Perhaps he too had worked out what was at stake now that they had confessed their intentions.

 

With a broken cry and a new bruise bitten into Watanuki’s shoulder, the feeling crescendoed, leaving them panting on the other side. They weren’t done, not by any means, but they weren’t in a hurry either. There was time to trace the curve of a hip, the frame of a shoulder, the kiss-bitten swell of a bottom lip. Time to touch each other, hold each other like the precious things they were.

 

Eventually, hours later, Watanuki did fall asleep, held in the arms of his lover.

 

Doumeki did not, watching the minutes tick by.

 

So it was that he spent another sleepless night wrapped around Watanuki, this time for entirely different reasons.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my Birthday today, but I'm sharing this present with you all. Hope you like angst.

Doumeki had never fallen asleep, so he got to watch Watanuki waking up. He caught the way his breathing shifted into something shallower. At first he thought he must just be dreaming again, but then the moving started. A grimace against the light. Pulling a leg up and in. An attempt at a roll that was thwarted by the weight of his own arm across Watanuki’s shoulders.

 

He pushed at it weakly at first, then seemed to remember where he was. Who he was with. “Hey.” He complained, voice still a little slurred with sleep. Doumeki lifted his arm and instead of moving away Watanuki rolled closer and buried his face in Doumeki’s chest.

 

The night had been hell. What should have been reasonable concern had eaten away at him until it was all consuming. It wasn’t so much a question of thinking of something that could have upset Himawari, rather now he was now faced with a multitude of options and he was trying to figure out which one it might be. It seemed like every possible iteration of why things wouldn’t work out had passed through his mind. About 3:30 am he was convinced they were over, but the dawn and now (semi)conscious company were helping to force the dread into background noise. Watanuki sighed against his sternum. It didn’t fix anything, but it helped none the less.

 

“You hungry?” The muffled voice asked.

 

Doumeki’s mind, so exhausted from the stress, latched on to the concept, pursuing anything that wasn’t grief or anxiety.

 

He fantasized about what Watanuki might make them for breakfast today. They’d had sweet yesterday. Maybe today would be savory? Eggs and the sausage he’d bought from the corner store? How did Watanuki like his eggs? Not in burritos apparently but… He drew a blank. How did he not know that yet?

 

So he was fuzzy on some details, but crystal clear on others. Because he knew the look of concentration he’d be wearing as he carefully tended to three burners at once. Knew how Watanuki liked to keep clean as he went. Even in his fantasy, Doumeki would be relegated to washing-up duty, so they’d stand side by side, Doumeki in pajama pants and Watanuki in a robe like yesterday maybe but with the sleeves tied back and an apron fixed carefully around his waist to protect it.

 

“Why are you smiling?” Watanuki asked, his voice sluggish and ripe with suspicion.

 

“Just imagining you in an apron.”

 

Watanuki reached up and tapped him lightly on the nose, a gesture usually reserved for Mugetsu when he was misbehaving. “Pervert.”

 

He was half tempted to defend himself, half tempted to prove him right,…

 

His phone chimed a text alert on the bedside table.

 

…and entirely obliged to do neither.

 

Normally he’d ignore it but he couldn’t. Not now. As he unlocked the screen it was exactly the message he’d been expecting from Himawari. _Can we talk?_

_Where?_

The answer was immediate. She sent a picture of the window display from a café they’d noted on the way home yesterday. It was only a few blocks away.

 

_I’ll be there in twenty._

He rolled away to the sound of protest, but Watanuki was too lazy to follow him into the bathroom for which he was infinitely grateful.

 

“Where are you off to so early?” Watanuki complained from the other room, but with no real pressure to it. Complaining for the sake of complaining, Doumeki thought to himself. What a charmer he’d found.

 

“Meeting.” He grunted around a toothbrush.

 

“Seriously? I didn’t know about it.”

 

He spit into the sink. The sight of himself in the mirror caught him off guard. He looked tired. Hollow. He dug for the energy to look passably normal and leaned across the door jam. “Why would you? You’re Yuuko’s PA, not mine, remember?”

 

Watanuki’s comeback was a poorly aimed pillow thrown at his head. Doumeki watched as it missed the mark and slid down the wall to his right before giving him a final look and retreating to the shower.

 

He bathed quickly and dressed even faster, almost making it out the bedroom door before he was caught by an indignant voice.

 

“Hey! You can’t even kiss me good morning?”

 

Doumeki stopped in his tracks.

 

‘Or kiss you goodby?’ He asked himself silently, honestly unsure what the right answer was.

 

He turned back towards the bed.

 

Watanuki was leaning back on an arm, looking haughtily over at him, like Doumeki was his subject, and the mattress his throne.

 

‘Yes. Please. Stay here forever. Rule over my bed.’

 

Whatever Watanuki had expected it obviously wasn’t for Doumeki to crawl on top of him and gather him into an embrace. He was shocked into silence as Doumeki held his shoulders firmly, keeping him still as he lightly teased the tip of his nose against Watanuki’s own, against his cheek, tiny puffs of air breathed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine and raising goosebumps despite the warmth of the room.

 

“Doume-?”

 

But Doumeki cut him off, bringing their lips together. It was still such a new sensation. That velvet electricity hadn’t gone anywhere and his fingers clenched ever so slightly into Watanuki’s bare arm as it shot through him. Watanuki reacted with a wanton whine, pitiful and begging.

 

He had meant to keep it quick. To keep it chaste. Honestly, he had. But then the tip of Watanuki’s tongue was teasing at the corner of his lips and those encouraging little sounds were coming from his throat. So he surrendered. His jaw fell those few degrees open and Watanuki was quick to take advantage, dragging his tongue forward and back against his own, the rhythm echoed ever so slightly in the arching of his body and the subtle rocking of his hips.

 

Doumeki felt himself groan in defeated frustration. This wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough.

 

Watanuki made a wordless noise of surprise as Doumeki’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him into his lap, sheets tangled between them and falling to rest at Watanuki’s thighs. Doumeki pressed him close, hands running desperately along his back, his thighs, his shoulders, burying in his hair, anywhere he could reach. All while tilting his head, pressing the kiss deeper, moving against Watanuki with that same warm, wet friction.

 

Watanuki groaned into his mouth, wrapped a clenching hand around his neck and leaned back, his every intention to drag Doumeki back down and satisfy the growing coil of heat at the base of his spine.

 

But instead Doumeki pulled away, meeting his eye with a strange intensity. “Good morning.” He whispered.

 

For a moment Watanuki was speechless.

 

But then Doumeki was shifting away and his hips hit mattress again. “Hey! Whoa, wait! What was that for?” There was a breathless smile in his voice.

 

Doumeki’s hand clenched around the door handle.

 

‘I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.’

 

He pushed it down. Turned back to face Watanuki. “You look good in my bed.” Doumeki forced some gravel into his throat. His heart wasn’t in it, but it was enough. Watanuki didn’t suspect a thing.

 

The walk to the café wasn’t long but he kind of wished it was longer. He spotted her before she did him. She was waiting outside, and looked about as rough as he felt. When she eventually saw him, she greeted him with a wave and the tiniest of smiles. They went through the pretense of ordering drinks, but drew the line at breakfast. Neither of them had an appetite.

 

“So…” She said, settling into a booth in the back of the small room of tables, hands wrapped around her cardboard cup sleeve, desperate for something to do.

 

He sat down opposite her. “So.”

 

For a moment it looked like she was working up to something normal. Like she might attempt small talk, but there just wasn’t quite enough inertia to drive the tightness from her eyes. He could see the precise moment she gave up. “Look, maybe this isn’t polite, but can we just…”

 

He nodded. “I’d prefer it.”

 

Her eyes flicked up to him. “Doumeki what do you think you’re doing?”

 

He’d imagined so many scenarios of how this would play out last night. He needed some clarification of which one this was. “In which regard specifically?”

 

“I know you don’t like me.”

 

And _that_ … He’d never anticipated this one. “Who says I don’t like you?” And really that wasn’t fair at all. He’d known her for a while now. Always thought she was nice enough, even when she’d technically been his rival. It was only in the past few days he’d started considering anything more with her. But as he watched her with Watanuki and the joy it brought him he'd never felt more sure.

 

She was justified though. He didn’t love her. He loved what she did to Watanuki. And it wasn’t fair to think of her like that. She was her own person. She had every right.

 

But… they were on the threshold of something so perfect. So wonderful. Last night had been amazing and he knew the fond regard he held for her could grow into something more. He just needed time. He’d waited so long for Watanuki. He knew that’s not how it worked, that she didn’t _owe_ him anything but… Couldn’t she just trust him? Couldn’t she just wait?

 

“You’ve been nice, and I appreciate that. I really do. But,” She shook her head and the dark curls shifted around her shoulders. “Doumeki, you can’t even stand to have our names on the same publications. I'm supposed to believe you really think we could be together?”

 

Oh!

 

His thoughts screeched to a halt. He’d been working through entirely the wrong problem.

 

Oh, no.

 

But that wasn’t the same at all, was it? That was professional and this was personal. Surely she trusted he could keep those two worlds separate? Suddenly he remembered every time he’d talked down rumor mongers. The fact that he’d used the phrase ‘rumor monger’ at all! His openly hostile reception of Kazahaya. The less than kind things he’d said about Channel Green and their ilk during the meeting yesterday.

 

But… he’d never thought of _her_ like that. Hadn’t meant for her to take the disapproval personally.

 

She was different. _This_ was different. She wasn't one of _them_. “The book is a good thing. You said so your self.”

 

“Yes,” She was exasperated, avoiding his gaze. “Because Destiny Records pays me a lot of money to convince people like you of things like that.”

 

And he'd thought the knot in his stomach yesterday had been bad. “So it’s not?”

 

“I mean… theoretically it could be. But...” She grimaced, clearly communicating her estimation of those odds.

 

He and Watanuki had had the conversations too. It wasn’t like she had had any new arguments. But when she said it, he had believed her. She had seemed so empathetic. Like she had been the only one on his side. But he really should have known better. Something about her was messing with his instincts.

 

Rational. He needed to be rational. His mind raced a mile a minute, rethinking the lead up to their meeting in light of this little revelation.

 

So what, yesterday she’d been perfectly fine with ruining his career, but now she thought they might end up sleeping together things were different? He almost said as much but when he looked up and saw her…

 

Seeing her so stricken wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he imagined it would be.

 

Instead he felt ashamed. Like he was somehow the one who put that expression on her face. And really, if he was going to hold this against her, then he needed to hold it against Watanuki too. The only difference in what they’d done was she had succeeded where he had failed.

 

A part of him was still fighting for that anger. Fighting for vindication. But he just…

 

He couldn’t.

 

Maybe it was rational. Maybe it wasn’t. He couldn’t tell right now. There were too many twisted lines of motivation and allegiance to sort through. Maybe someday he would. But here and now his gut was telling him to forgive, and he trusted it.

 

Besides, the alternative was unthinkable.

 

Himawari was still staring miserably at the tabletop as she went on. “Your reputation will survive this book,” It would have to. He’d already signed. “But I’m not sure it would survive me." Her gaze softened. She traced the rim of her paper cup. "It’s different with Watanuki. What he does happens in secret. He doesn’t have to put his name on it. But we don’t all get that luxury. I’m-" Her hand slid back to the table. "I’m bad luck for you. You should probably just stay away.”

 

Something deep and protective stirred in his stomach. He couldn’t put a name to it yet, but all he knew was that she should never feel that way.

 

“There’s no ‘us’ without you.”

 

“Doumeki” she seemed more frustrated than anything.

 

“I’m serious.” He knew now, so very concretely, that there was more to these two than what he'd been projecting onto them. Watanuki had tried to warn him, hadn't he? And he'd ignored it each time. But still they were beautiful. Brought out the best in each other. And what was he, if not a professionally trained appreciator of beauty? There were things worth sacrificing for. Even without Watanuki’s ultimatums, how could he live with himself without doing everything he could to keep them together? “Even if it means I’m not there, you should be with him.”

 

“No.” Her dark eyes snapped up and pinned him in place. “Stay.” She said it quietly. A demand but a soft one. “He’s better off with someone with your reputation.”

 

But Doumeki wasn’t having it. “He’s better off with someone who understands his world.”

 

They reached an impasse.

 

“Himawari, don’t leave him.”

 

“I won’t if you won’t.”

 

Negotiating with her was so much easier when both secretly wanted the same thing.

 

“Deal.”

 

They should have been happy. Maybe laughed as the tension broke, but neither was really feeling up to it.

 

“I’m sorry for convincing you to sign the contract.” She said quietly, staring at her hands on the cup.

 

"It's ok." And it wasn't, but it would be, and he was sure that's what counted. “I’m sorry for calling you a-” She winced and he cut himself off just in time. “For the things I’ve said.”

 

“I forgive you.” She said, glancing up at him. But then she was looking away shaking her head. “But your career….”

 

“I don’t care.” He said, glaring at the sugar shaker on the edge of the table.

  
Her eyes were back on him, cutting straight through his pretensions. “Yes you do.”

 

He exhaled through a grimace. Of course he did. What he really meant was, “It’s worth it.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Listen, this morning I was ready to _leave_ _him_ for him. By comparison this-” He swallowed hard, opened his hand in gesture. By comparison this was easy. “Yes, I’m sure.”

 

She seemed a little awed. "You really love him, don't you?"

 

He stared at her, not saying anything to that. Not needing to.

 

“You could still do this without me. As long as he’s happy…”

 

But Doumeki was shaking his head and caught her eye fiercely. “There is no ‘us’ with out you.” He repeated. “You _are_ his happiness.”

 

She had it very together for someone who was visibly on the verge of tears. “But will you feel like that tomorrow? Or the next day? Or when you get turned down for a story, or when your agent stops taking your calls? None of this-” And here she had to collect herself. She was getting too loud. “None of this works if you start resenting me when the honeymoon wears off. And you could too! You'd have every right-”

 

He caught her hand and held it in both of his. He didn't start speaking until the look in his eye quieted her. “This is _my_ decision, Himawari. And I will never, ever forget that.” He spoke with a surety he wouldn’t even begin to know how to fake.“I promise.”

 

She must have believed him, because she finally let herself break. She made a noise somewhere between a choke and a laugh and a tear slid down her cheek.

 

“Hey! Hey, it’s ok.” Doumeki said, caught off guard. He was out of his seat and sitting beside her in the booth in moments, a comforting arm around her shoulder while he checked to see if the other patrons of the cafe had noticed.

 

There were a number of heads turning away sheepishly. A few openly hostile glares.

 

This was supposed to be how relationships ended, not started, right? He wondered how fluent the clientele's English was and what they must think of him.

 

But Himawari pretty quickly pulled it together. She wasn’t about to apologize but at the least she could offer him an explanation. “This is good. Honestly, I’m happy right now, I just…” She wiped the running mascara away on the back of a thumb. “I was so worried.”

 

He gave her a side hug and she leaned into it, resting her head a little against his shoulder. “Did you sleep last night?” He asked.

 

“No.”

 

“Yeah, me neither.”

 

This earned him a huffed laugh and by degrees her breathing returned to normal. As the worry and the hurt eased away they were left in the embrace. It wasn’t romantic, but it was intimate in a way they had never been with each other before.

 

“This is crazy.” She said after a deep breath, tucking her arm up to rest a hand between her brow and his shoulder.

 

“I know.”

 

A few moments ticked by, then she turned more into him, hiding a little behind her hand. “I’m glad it’s you.” She said quietly.

 

His exhausted smile was subtle. “Same.”

 

They sat there a few minutes more, but soon they were both a little desperate to get out of the café and leave the conversation behind. They carried their now cold drinks and wove through the streets, Himawari's hand resting in the crook of Doumeki's politely offered elbow, taking the long way home. In fact it was probably more just a walk along the river they could call a ‘way home’ because that was where they did eventually end up.

 

She left him with a squeeze of his arm and he took the last few stories of the elevator ride alone.

 

When he entered his apartment, Watanuki was still there, not cooking but the smell of it hung in the air and the oven glowed.

 

“How’d your meeting go?” Watanuki asked, sitting on the corner of his couch, reading something on his phone and wearing the yukata he’d made fun of Doumeki for buying like a robe.

 

“Good. Really good.” He moved toward the kitchen but Watanuki caught his wrist. He was hungry but he wasn’t _that_ hungry. He sat when Watanuki pulled him down and Watanuki moved to straddle casually over his lap.

 

“I thought this was for women?” Doumeki asked, pushing one side of the material back so he could wrap a hand around Watanuki’s thigh.

 

“You don’t like it?” Watanuki teased.

 

Doumeki brought his other hand to the side of his neck, fingertips carding through the short hair at the base of his skull. The dark blue dye of the fabric caught the low-lights of Watanuki’s eyes, bringing out the indigo-sapphire where they refracted through his glasses, looking that tiny bit bigger than they actually were.

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

Watanuki grinned and leaned into him.

 

“Wait.”

 

He pulled back with an easy curiosity.

 

“How do you like your eggs?”

 

“What?” Watanuki raised an eyebrow. His posture became a little less charged. “Why?’

 

“Just… I wanted to know.”

 

“Um…” Watanuki blinked down at him. “Poached.”

 

There was silence.

 

Then Doumeki barked out a laugh and had to hide his face against Watanuki’s collar bone while he tried to get it under control.

 

“What!? Why are you laughing?”

 

“Nothing. Just…” He leaned back again, fighting a grin. “That’s possibly the most high maintenance thing I’ve ever heard.”

 

Watanuki sputtered. “You asked! I didn’t say you had to _make_ me them! You- Stop laughing!”

 

But he couldn’t. Watanuki scowled at him and crawled out of his lap.

 

“You made breakfast though, right?” Doumeki called after him.

 

“YES. I DID.” Watanuki snapped at him. “Because I am a KIND and GENEROUS person. Not that you deserve _any_ of it…”

 

The rant went on for a solid five minutes.

 

Music to his ears.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've sat through some pretty painful techno babble. 
> 
> If you study or are familiar with law whatsoever, I'm so, so sorry. Let me make it up to you with the next chapter.

“I’m thinking ‘Touya Jr’.”

 

Sakura pulled a face, “If you want a baby named after you, you’ll have to have your own.”

 

Her brother wandered back to the kitchen, murmurs of “such a brat” under his breath.

 

“I’m not crazy, right?” Her hand fished at the bottom of the bowl distractedly, pulling out a few more shrimp flavored rice puffs. “Don’t you think family names are a little… I don’t know...” They crunched softly as she chewed. “And wouldn’t that get confusing?”

 

“Not necessarily.” Syaoran’s cheeks burned. He thought he’d have at least a few more months before they started talking about this. And now she was springing it on him all the sudden. Was it really that weird to want pass your name down? “I think it depends, princess.”

 

He did his best to hide his disquiet, but she knew him too well. “Oh!” She sat up a little straighter in her seat. “ _Really_?” But Syaoran wasn’t feeling very forthcoming on the subject. She turned to Yukito instead, asking very earnestly, (though the effect was a little ruined by her munching) “What do you think?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know…” He demurred. “I’ve always liked the name ‘Touya’. But I'm biased so maybe you shouldn't listen to me.”

 

“That’s ok.” Mr. and Mrs. Li said a little too eagerly in unison, then surprised by that, looked at each other and tried not to blush.

 

He just smiled kindly, any laughter expressed strictly in his eyes. “But you’ve got plenty of time. You’ll find something that feels right.” It was such a comfort to hear in that soft voice of his. Yukito grinned sincerely as he reached out to the bowl again.

 

Only to hover as he and Sakura realized they were both reaching for the last puff.

 

“I’m sorry!” She said quickly. “You take it. You’re the guest.”

 

“Not at all. You’re eating for two.”

 

“But you said you were so hungry when you got here!”

 

“Nonsense! I can wait until-”

 

“No need.” Touya cut in, coming to the rescue with a plate of sliced fruit and crackers in each hand. He set one down, along with a can at Sakura’s side.

 

She gasped, holding the cheeze wiz close. “You remembered!”

 

“Of course I did.” He’d looked long and hard to find any for sale in Japan, eventually resorting to ordering online. She didn’t even particularly like it, but he’d listened to her complaining about the craving the last few times they’d spoken.

 

“See?” Touya shot a look down the table at Syaoran. “That’s how you provide for someone. You can’t even keep my baby sister fed?”

 

Sakura was quick to give him a smack on the shoulder. “Hey! Leave him alone. You make me sound like a weird pet or something.”

 

The uneasy smile Syaoran wore could be called ‘diplomatic’ at best. Archeology did not put food on the table, literally or otherwise. They could afford his chosen career only when balanced with Tomoyo’s. He still felt bad about it sometimes, but his partners went out of their way to remind him the work he did was important, even when the university funds allocators didn’t act like it. It also meant they took possibly the coolest vacations in existence as they followed his research.

 

Had Yukito ever been taken spelunking in Aztec ruins? No. So who was the negligent partner now?

 

Except the thought made him a little sad. He briefly wondered if Sakura might be able to work her sibling diplomacy magic and get Yukito to join in on one of their adventures without having to invite _him_.

 

Touya was a good guy deep down. Syaoran was sure of it. But he did not make for an easy-going brother in law.

 

“Make yourself useful; Take these upstairs?” He nodded to the second plate still in his hands.

 

“Of course.” Syaoran smiled tightly, taking the tray and leaving his wife to her sibling. As he ascended the stairs he tried not to think of it as escaping. To be honest, he usually found Tomoyo’s office a little intimidating, but right now it felt like a safe haven.

 

“I come baring gifts.” He announced, pulling Tomoyo and Kurogane out of their reading.

 

“That bad?” Tomoyo looked him over shrewdly and did not beat around the bush about what she saw.

 

“We’re having a great time.” He lied. "Your child is about to be named 'Touya Jr.'" 

 

"Like Hell it is."

 

Strangely, Touya had no problem with Tomoyo. If Syaoran was being very, very honest, he thought it had everything to do with their respective genders. Not that he’d ever be enough of an idiot to say that out loud. There were plenty of legitimate reasons for Touya to favor her over him, and he already knew most of them and would prefer to not have them listed by one of his least favorite relatives.

 

“Don’t worry. The cavalry is coming soon.” Tomoyo promised, smiling affectionately. “I just want to finish a few more of these.

 

“Anything I could help you with?”

 

She looked up, a little surprised. Syaoran was all for pouring through dense tomes for obscure details, but they usually had to be a thousand years older than these before he started taking an interest.

 

But at the moment he’d be happy to do anything that didn’t involve going back downstairs alone. He gave her a pleading look.

 

“Kurogane,” She asked. “Maybe you can bring him up to date?”

 

“I don’t have time to cover fifteen hundred years of human history, your highness.” He said sarcastically dry. Syaoran felt the tension ratchet up and was ready with a change of subject.

 

But Tomoyo just chuckled. Kurogane smiled the slightest bit.

 

It always floored him how well Tomoyo could read him. As much as he looked up to Kurogane, as much as he and Fai had become weird pseudo-parental figures to all three of them, no one knew Kurogane like Tomoyo did. It was like they could communicate entirely in significant pauses and she never, ever read his mood wrong. He’d seen her take him from apparent murderous rampage to chastened overgrown puppy in a sentence flat with a smile on her face.

 

She was amazing.

 

But he couldn’t get distracted by that right now. Kurogane was speaking.

 

“These,” He threw an agitated gesture to the piles of papers covering her desk. “Are the copies of the last two months’ worth of Clover emails before everything was shut down. Tomoyo ’s found a few suspicious gaps in conversations, which, since they occur after the subpoena, could constitute tampering with evidence.”

 

“Which would mean…?” Syaoran prompted. When these two had spent any time together it was hard to get them to start speaking in layman’s terms again.

 

Kurogane gestured his impatience so Tomoyo picked up the thread of conversation. “Which would mean the defense had committed a crime. The case would have to be thrown out or retried.”

 

“So…”

 

Kurogane spoke gruffly, bringing his attention back around. “So Fai could break his contract.”

 

Syaoran was shocked. That was amazing news, but it didn’t fit the somber air of the room. He must be missing something. “And it wouldn’t just revert to how it was at first? Back when he couldn’t compose either?”

 

It was Tomoyo that answered. “Theoretically yes, but to pursue it, Clover would have to address the fraud they committed. It just wouldn’t be worth it anymore.”

 

“That’s great!”

 

“Yes.” She smiled up at him politely.

 

“Shouldn’t you be more... This is big news isn’t it? Why aren’t you more excited?”

 

A growl came from the desk again, “Because, we’ve been at it for hours and there are three more boxes of files.”

 

Syaoran nodded, following so far.

 

“On top of that,” He went on. “People delete emails all the time. We have to prove there was evidence there in the first place. We need some sort of proof they were relevant to the case. Some sort of sign they were suspicious.”

 

“But how do you prove that without the actual emails?” She posited.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Any leads so far?” Syaoran prompted.

 

She indicated a single sheet of paper Kurogane had propped up against one of her files. It was a screen shot of an inbox printed out. The interface was so old as to be nostalgic. This was a photocopy, but it showed faint hand written marks after about every tenth message.

 

“It’s the only page like that we’ve found. We’re hoping it might be our Rosetta Stone. Tomoyo’s gone through and tried to find them all. Every one with a check mark is missing. It’s got to be an order to destroy them. It must have happened after they were printed but before they were surrendered to the courts. It… I don’t know what else it could be.”

 

Which had basically nothing to do with the Rosetta Stone, but Syaoran didn’t make the correction. He followed the logic of it though; It seemed inevitable even, given the thousands upon thousands of papers someone had sorted through. “Someone lost a single piece of paper in the haystack?”

 

“That’s what we’re thinking.” Tomoyo answered, setting the papers in her own hand down for the moment and standing with a stretch. Then she came to take strawberry from the plate and joined him at the desk.

 

“And what did the shorthand say?” He didn’t expect much. If they hadn’t mentioned it, it must not have helped.

 

“It’s not. We’re thinking they’re a weird check mark or something. Or in code. In which case…” Kurogane shrugged. In which case it was useless this incomplete and without a key. When no one said anything else, Kurogane turned over his shoulder. Syaoran was not sharing his apathy. At all. He pushed the chair back and his eyes narrowed. “Unless you know something?”

 

“I’m not sure but… You know what? Hold on.” Syaoran dashed away without another word, much to their shared frustration, but he was back less than a minute later, out of breath and carrying a moving box. He had the decency to get on with his explanation before either of them had to command it from him. “I’m not sure…” He warned, digging through slightly dusty notebooks with a degree of difficulty, “But I think this might be Tironian. I had project on it back in graduate school.” He seemed to find the notebook he was looking for, pulling it out and beginning to flip through. “You wouldn’t necessarily recognize it as shorthand. It’s not what the stenographers use. It’s old. Like… BC old. But if anyone at Clover was Gaelic they might have been exposed to it.” His hands on the paper slowed to a stop, not because he found what he was looking for, but because he was growing distracted, eager to share the context. “It’s fascinating actually. They still use it on traffic signs and everything.”

 

Kurogane growled low in his throat, eyes trained on Syaoran’s still hands.

 

“Perhaps you should get to the point, dear?” Tomoyo gently interrupted.

 

“Oh!” He resumed his flipping through the pages. “Here!” He declared, holding up a linguistic chart he’d carefully replicated in the basement of a library what felt like lifetimes ago. Kurogane took the notebook from his hands and laid it next to the list of emails. They all gathered around anxiously.

 

The handwriting on the printout was messy and loose compared to the careful symbols Syaoran had copied out, but the similarities were discernible.

 

“Syaoran…” Kurogane prompted tightly.

 

“Right. Paper… I need…”

 

Tomoyo pushed paper and pen into his hands and he got to work. Symbol by symbol he wrote the corresponding phonetics.

 

Braye. Buh.

  
  
Sub. Stan. S.

 

My. Nor.

 

Frahd.

 

There weren’t many to translate in the first place and some of them repeated. It wasn’t long before he stood back, finished. They all stared down at the evidence.

 

“Is that… enough?” He asked.

 

“I think so.” Tomoyo said quietly. “As long as the official copy is still safe in custody back in LA.”

 

“You did it, kid.” Kurogane’s voice was still flat with shock, his expression blank except for the furrow of his brow.

 

“We _all_ did it.” Tomoyo corrected barely above a whisper.

 

Syaoran felt frozen. He’d never really understood the nuances of Fai’s case, but he’d seen how many late nights his wife and Kurogane had devoted to it. He knew how much it meant to them. “Should we… Should we tell him?”

 

“No!” Kurogane’s response was sharp.

 

“Not yet.” Tomoyo explained for him. “There are procedures. Certain requests that need to be approved. We should wait until it’s official.” A gentle way of saying it could still fail.

 

“Hey.”

 

They both looked up at Kurogane. His mouth was set tight but there was no masking his eyes.

 

“Thank you.”

 

He didn’t look back at them. Couldn’t tear his gaze away from the paper.

 

Syaoran was on the verge of saying something when Tomoyo reached around him and pulled Kurogane into a hug. He returned it gruffly, the control on his face belayed by the crushing force of his arms. Syaoran watched with a small smile until Kurogane reached out to drag him into it too, a hand coming down to mess up his hair.


	48. Chapter 48

“Ready?”

 

Subaru’s bare chest shifted as breath filled his lungs. Seishiro’s tie was held flat across the man’s open palms, almost as if he were presenting it. It was black, and if Subaru was any judge of fabric, probably expensive. But maybe he was wrong. Hokuto would know better. It was her… her area.

 

“Subaru?”

 

He blinked and looked up to meet Seishiro’s questioning gaze.

 

Of course.

 

This was Seishiro’s first time. He needed to keep it together.

 

“Ready.”

 

Seishiro leaned in to tie the dark fabric across his eyes, eclipsing his vision. He felt the tension across his temple and the bridge of his nose as he pulled the knot tight.

 

They’d tried to have a quiet day after the encounter in the office. Seishiro had sat smoking on one end of the couch, working on his laptop while Subaru laid with his head in his lap. Normally he’d pick at his guitar to calm his nerves but… Well, that wasn’t really an option anymore, was it?

 

First he tried reading a book, but Seishiro’s limited personal library was mostly painfully boring how-to guides. When that didn’t grab him, he considered going back for his background check, but that was just really potentially too intense. In the end, he surfed tumblr on his phone, but even with himself and the band blacklisted, he couldn’t avoid it. What he really wanted was hedgehogs and aesthetic posts, but what he got was himself. It was his price to pay he supposed. Their fans were excitable at the best of times but the announcement had sent them into a frenzy.

 

It wasn’t too bad, for the most part.

 

There were a lot of new stories about Kamui and Fuuma declaring their love for each other for about the first or last tenth of the text. The other ninety percent was the usual. Some of them were surprisingly spot on, not that he took the time to read many, but he couldn’t help skimming as he scrolled by.

 

There were the requisite gay pride posts. Then, just as many critiques about being gay the wrong way with seemingly infinite variation. Apparently Kamui’s tendency to wear eyeliner onstage was reinforcing problematic hetero-normative queer representation. How dare he?

 

There were endless walls of music video and interview gifs that his phone barely loaded the first few frames of before he moved on.

 

And of course there was the art work. Their fans consisted of some seriously talented people, and it was an honor to be drawn by them. Really it was. Yet seeing himself painted with semen dripping down his cheek and chin, even lovingly rendered semen, just wasn’t something he could handle right now.

 

Seishiro had been very understanding when he’d sighed heavily and asked for a distraction.

 

Just as he was being understanding now.

 

“Raise your arms?”

 

Subaru complied, staying where Seishiro re-positioned him when he went _too_ high. A familiar texture slipped across the skin of his chest and back.

 

 _Oh_. Seishiro really _had_ done his homework.

 

“Does that feel too tight?”

 

“No.”

 

Thanks to an old friend in Berlin, Subaru was fairly well versed in shibari. It was something he only had pleasant memories of. Something that made him relax. Even now.

 

Not that it took much convincing. Seishiro moved gently around him, weaving the rope into some sort of harness. Not one he recognized by touch, but it seemed normal enough. Across the chest. Around the back of his neck. Across the chest again. Seishiro kept slipping two fingers against his skin, safety checks textbook, sometimes literally so, and the predictability had Subaru sinking a little faster than anticipated. With reluctance he fought it. He needed to pay attention.

 

Whatever was tied around him, it kept getting tighter and tighter with each new loop until the final knots were put in place.

 

“Do you want to see?”

 

“Do you want me to see?” Subaru bit back the ‘Master’ that was just aching to join the end of that sentence. He wasn’t surprised he needed to coax Seishiro into taking on his role in this, but… baby steps.

 

“I do.” The anticipation was plain in his voice. Seishiro shifted closer behind him, his slacks and business shirt pressing against Subaru’s bare back and legs. There was a tension as Seishiro worked the knot free and pulled the tie away.

 

Subaru caught sight of himself in the mirror against the far wall.

 

His breath hitched.

 

His pale chest (it never caught the sun) was tied up, cadged in a web of bright scarlet rope. He could see it now. Replayed the sensations and saw how it had been accomplished. Seishiro had weaved a pentagram across his chest.

 

“Do you like it?” Seishiro was kneeling behind him on the bed. One hand on his upper arm. The other twisting into the knotwork at his back, drawing the whole thing tight. Though Seishiro’s movements were slight, Subaru was compelled to follow them as if…

 

… Well, it _was_ a harness after all.

 

Subaru searched out Seishiro’s gaze in the mirror.

 

“It’s beautiful.”

 

Seishiro’s slight smile didn’t change much, but he seemed pleased with himself none the less.

 

Subaru’s eyes were back on the red lines, a hand coming up to trace the vertices, hesitating as he ran across the bruise over his heart.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Seishiro sat back on his heels, leaning around slightly to look up and catch Subaru’s profile. “It would look worse by now if it was broken.”

 

“So you keep saying.”

 

“Do you want to keep going?”

 

Subaru looked down at him over his shoulder. “There’s more?”

 

Seishiro just smiled and nodded once.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Sit on the edge of the bed, please.”

 

“Yes.” ‘…Sir.’

 

Seishiro came to kneel at his feet, a second length of rope in his hands, this time the light brown color of the natural fibers. “Hands.”

 

Subaru held them out and was surprised when Seishiro placed one on his knee and began massaging the other, both his thumbs pressing firmly into his palm. It looked like he was concentrating. The touch was certainly methodical.

 

“Comfortable?”

 

“Yes.”

 

And it was.

 

Subaru had important hands. They were insured by the label for actual millions, though he wasn’t sure of the exact amount. (And doubted _he’d_ be the one seeing any money should anything happen.)But it was something he thought about every time he closed a door a little too hard. Any time he pet a stranger’s dog. Anytime he did… well, _anything_ in a kitchen. He took care of his hands, but not like this.

           

It wasn’t anything complicated, but with the tension he held there, it didn’t take much. It was just thumbs working across his palm, but it sent waves of relaxation up his arm and it washed across his body.

 

He didn’t really register it when the touch moved further up his arm. Seishiro had already traced his thumb along his vein halfway to his elbow before he did a double take.

 

People usually… They didn’t…

 

Seishiro must have sensed something because he stopped.

 

The hand under his elbow stayed there, supporting his arm, but the other retreated back down, cupping the back of his hand and lacing his finger tips through Subaru’s first and second fingers. The movement drew his eyes back to Seishiro’s face, his expression neutral concern.

 

“Does it bother you?” He asked calmly.

 

“No.”

 

It hadn’t. Not at all. Just caught him off guard. People, when they touched him here at all, tended to keep the contact light, either afraid for or uncomfortable with the scarring. But Seishiro had touched him firmly, intent on the muscle and vessels beneath. Yes, he could still feel the uneven nerve response from the burns and the cuts, numb some places and oversensitive in others, but it was such a familiar feeling, he could almost tune it out.

 

“Do _they_ bother you?”

 

Subaru looked questioningly to the older man, needing confirmation that he’d really just asked that. And he had. Seishiro’s eyes were tracing along the damage in a way his fingers hadn’t.

 

For a moment Subaru was speechless. To his knowledge, Seishiro didn’t carry any scarring. He’d only seen the man nude once and the lighting had been low, but still. How could he possibly explain the nuance of feeling to someone who had never gone through it?

 

For a long time he’d hated them. Each mark was the reminder of another betrayal. Of the system that had torn him from his sister. Of the instructors that had convinced him it was in his best interest to switch instruments, when it had become obvious years later that it had been nothing of the sort. Of the clergy that, after a lifetime of devotion, had not been there for him in his hour of need. Of the lover whom he’d tried so desperately to understand. Of himself for not gathering the will to leave him until things had gone entirely too far.

 

Each one had hurt. Hurt to be driven to. Hurt to receive. Hurt even still on stormy days when the pressure dropped.

 

And yet, how could he live with himself if he hadn’t learned to forgive?

 

Because for each of these terrible memories, there was a version of his past self that had persevered. Had survived. And he had so much pride, so much love for the memory of that boy.

 

The marks… They were a part of him now. And how could he love himself without loving them too?

 

Or at least that was how he felt today.

 

Today was a good day.

 

“Subaru?”

 

“You don’t think I’m used to them by now?”

 

But Seishiro was catching wise to the way Subaru would act like he’d already answered a question in order to avoid them.

 

Subaru rolled his eyes and smiled reassuringly. “No, they don’t bother me.”

 

Seishiro’s hands returned, lighter this time.

 

“Can you...” Subaru trailed off.

 

Seishiro paused and looked up, encouraging him to finish.

 

“Like before, please?”

 

“Of course.”

 

He went back to work, continuing on to the other arm. Subaru wasn’t used to people at his feet like this. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it, but it made for a pleasing image in the mirror.

 

“It’s overhand.” Subaru said as the second skein of rope was being tied around him.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“That knot there.” He clarified. “You’re tying a box tie right? That should be overhand.”

 

Seishiro first had to take a moment to infer the translation. He’d learned from a Japanese guide. Then he looked at the ropes hard for a minute, turned his head like he was imagining it from a different perspective. “Ah. You’re correct.” He set the ropes right. “Thank you.”

 

Subaru was grateful Seishiro had gone for a restraint that kept his arms bound wrist to elbow instead of forearm to forearm in a sleeve tie. He didn’t want to feel like he was praying.

 

When he set the final knot in place, Seishiro dropped his hands to Subaru’s legs, starting at one ankle and massaging up, then the other. There was a sexuality to it, but it was an easy thing, more background noise than foreplay. When this too came to an end, he rested his hands at Subaru’s waist, looking up at him, observing, evaluating.

 

“Feel anything yet?”

 

Subaru tipped his head to the side, not quite understanding the question. He’d just felt lots of things. And if he was talking about arousal, Seishiro had the evidence right in front of him that that hadn’t happened.

 

“I feel _nice_.” Subaru hazarded. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

 

Seishiro smiled a little, taking the compliment for what it was. “But you don’t feel subspace?”

 

Oh.

 

“No, not really.” Subaru had plenty of experience apologizing for his anatomical stalling. Less so this one. “That’s ok though. I’m still enjoying this. I appreciate it.”

 

Seishiro nodded, but looked a little unsatisfied as he idly tried hooking his fingers different places on the restraints, the tension tracing along ropes across Subaru’s entire torso.

 

“I did it before without even trying.”

 

Seishiro sounded disappointed.

 

“Circumstances were different back then. And it wasn’t exactly the safest way to do it.”

 

“Still.” He’d like to get Subaru there. To see him go limp like he had on the kitchen table.

 

“Why don’t we lay down together? I’d like to feel you some more.”

 

Apparently Seishiro liked the idea well enough. He kicked off his shoes and helped Subaru shift up the bed until they were laid down, spooning with their heads sharing a pillow, Seishiro lying close along so much of Subaru’s bare skin.

 

And here was the missing piece. Because he felt so safe, so relaxed, tied up and surrounded by Seishiro. His hand wandered warm and firm across his body. His side. His flank. His thighs. His stomach. Even between his legs, though the touch there was just as easy as it had been everywhere else. Caressing to comfort without expectation.

 

Subaru's transition usually wasn’t so slow and gradual as this, but he could feel the sweet tendrils of release slithering up his brain stem. Cloying at him. Growing. He sighed sweetly. “Seishiro…”

 

And he almost would have forgotten to finish his thought if he hadn’t been prompted to continue by a hum by his ear. “Hmm?”

 

“It’s happening. I… It’s working.” He let his eyes slide closed. Surrendering to the easy bliss that softened his senses.

 

“What should I do?” Seishiro wasn’t asking for guidance. They’d already talked carefully through his limits. He was asking for preference. What Subaru wanted to feel in this moment.

 

“Do what feels right.”

 

Seishiro shifted a little, nuzzling into his neck, kissing wetly up those tendons, nibbling on his ear. Subaru was so far gone that, though he knew he was making such embarrassing mewling noises he couldn’t do anything to stop himself. So he didn’t. Just gave himself over to the sensation of Seishiro laving this affection upon him.

 

Then there was a sudden slap against his hip and he cried out.

 

Only in the following moments did his sluggish mind put the pieces together. It hadn’t really hurt. Only surprised him. Still, he felt that rush. “Again.” He demanded weakly. “Harder.”

 

The hand on his backside squeezed and massaged, then descended again. This time he could feel it, stinging and hot. “Yes!” He moaned, curling in on himself. “More… Please.”

 

And Seishiro gave it to him. A sharp slap. A soothing massage. Then, just when he’d stopped expecting anything more, another dose of sharp pain. Again and again. The chemicals flooded his system and he was lost to the heady release, moaning his appreciation. Helpless within it.

 

Then a voice low and demanding at his ear. “Say thank you.”

 

What? He…

 

“Say, ‘Thank you, Seishiro’.”

 

The response to the authority in his voice was automatic.

 

“Thank you, Seishiro!”

 

The curse it drug from the man was broken and jagged.

 

Firm hands grasped his bare hips from behind, keeping him still as a cloth covered erection ground against him. He arched into it mindlessly, chasing Seishiro’s pleasure as if it were his own. The hands left him only long enough to get the pants open and down his thighs, then Subaru was drug onto his back and a cold wetness spread against his crotch and upper inner thighs. Subaru stared dumbly at the ceiling, eyes unfocused and mouth falling open with the fuzzy satisfaction of it all. Strong hands held up his knees and forced them together and back so Seishiro could thrust into the channel created there, his hot, hard length fitting snugly against Subaru’s flaccid.

 

For all that he was soft, he was groaning along with him, arching against the sheets, begging for more contact. Seishiro kept at the tight heat until he felt himself getting close, then spread those legs wide beneath him. He drove down now, grinding against Subaru’s pelvis with ferocity and fucking that smaller body harder into the mattress with each thrust. Subaru cried out his hazy approval, and with a stutter and a groan he came across Subaru’s stomach, his body absolutely buzzing with his conquest.

 

“Seishiro!” Subaru called for his attention breathlessly. As if _he_ was the one who had just been spent. “I- I want-!”

 

He reached out, fingers grasping to the red restraints of the harness and drug him to sitting with ease. “What is it?” He asked, panting.

 

“Kiss me?”

 

And he did, devouring Subaru’s mouth with a hunger that left both of them gasping for air.

 

Seishiro left only long enough to get them both cleaned up, then he was back, unwilling to spend any time out of contact with him that wasn’t absolutely necessary. Even after the ropes were removed, he stayed, prowling over his body like a fresh kill. Subaru fell asleep crushed under his weight and loving it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know exactly who Subaru's 'old friend in Berlin' is. Any guesses? Winner gets ten points.


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting. It's such a joy to share this story with you guys and it really makes my day to hear all the kind things you have stopped by to say about this AU. <3 
> 
> Sorry about the unintended hiatus the past month or so. Life got a little crazy but things have calmed down a bit since. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading! ^^

“Doumeki…” Watanuki’s voice had that tight, little whine it always got when he was contemplating murder.

 

“What?”

 

“You said to dress casually.”

 

Doumeki sighed. Watanuki apparently didn’t like surprises. At least not when they had anything to do with work, and anything to do with music _was_ unfortunately work.

 

“I did.”

 

“To the concert hall?”

 

“It’s just a rehearsal. No one will be dressed up.”

 

To Watanuki’s other side, Himawari shot him a glance, then shifted her gaze to their mutual object of affection.

 

“I’m not sure I’m up on my classical contacts.” She said with a light but obviously nervous tone. “Are you, Watanuki?”

 

“A bit.” He said, the ‘but not enough’ silently implied.

 

Himawari looked marginally better than Watanuki, wearing a white sundress with simple flats. Her hair was up in pigtails against the heat. When Doumeki had suggested this excursion to Watanuki a few days ago, he’d pitched it as another tourist adventure not so different than the ones they’d already taken. When he’d spoken to Himawari he’d been clear that this was a date. They both understood why not letting Watanuki know that detail might be for the best, but it did mean his T-shirt, thin hoodie and shorts felt incredibly under dressed.

 

“You don’t need to know them.” Doumeki said, breaking their inertia and approaching the doors. “I do.”

 

Watanuki and Himawari exchanged a look before following him.

 

A few people tried to stop them, but Doumeki dropping the right names got them through and seated in the third to last row of the ground floor. The musicians were already onstage and playing something not quite heavy, but driving and classical. The theater was empty save for about ten others scattered throughout the seats, most on their own but a few in small groups. Many of them were working on paper work. Their arrival prompted a few glances and one wave but other than that they were ignored.   
  
“I feel like…” They were far enough back that Watanuki could speak quietly without disturbing anyone, audience or musician. “I feel like I’ve heard this before.”

 

“Oh?” Doumeki asked with the tiniest of smiles as they all sat down. A glance at Himawari proved she wasn’t placing it either. Doumeki had spent enough time around these two that he knew they could each name at least five hundred industry professionals on sight and probably tell you about their next project and how their kids were doing in school. Ironic that they should not instantly recognize one of the most famous pieces of music ever written.

 

They would though, as soon as the movement came into its finale. Doumeki need only wait.

 

Eighth. Eighth. Eighth. Half.

 

Eighth. Eighth. Eighth. Half.  
  
The four heavy notes fell into place twice as the song wound back towards its main motif. They both looked over at him. He just glanced at them in confirmation with a small grin and settled an arm around the back of Watanuki’s seat. They smiled as if it was a shared joke.

 

“Must you be such a cliché?” Watanuki murmured

 

“It was this or Madame Butterfly.”

 

Watanuki shot him a frown but Himawari just hid silent laughter behind a hand.

 

“I’m not kidding. Check the season calendar if you don’t believe me.”

 

“It’s true.” She said in a hush as the music became more subdued. “I saw a poster on the way in.”

 

Watanuki’s face shifted into surprise. “Oh.” He gave an appraising glance towards Doumeki. “What a weird coincidence.”   


In the end it turned out Watanuki did have cause for complaint. The musicians might not be wearing tuxedos, but they were still at work and dressed like it. Suddenly, after spending such a long time to pick out such a simple outfit, showing off his legs was the last thing he wanted to be doing. Oh, well. Too late now. The music was nice. Himawari seemed to be enjoying it. He decided Doumeki could be forgiven.

 

A few notes were given and the symphony prepared to repeat the song. As the music started up again they all turned to watch. Himawari shifted and, unseen to Watanuki, rested her arm over the back of her own chair. From there it was a simple thing reach out and brush the back of Doumeki’s hand with a manicured nail. It spooked, him, he had to admit, but it was small enough to shrug off when Watanuki turned to check on him. Satisfied, he turned away.   
  
Behind his back, Doumeki opened his hand and Himawari’s moved over his, heel of her palm against the back of his and fingertips trailing over his lifeline. When he glanced over, she caught his eye, a single eyebrow raised. He nodded the slightest bit and she smiled at him a little shyly before turning back to the stage.

 

There were another two movements to sit through and the occasional interruption while the conductor changed a transition or musical color. Doumeki spent most of it eyeing Watanuki’s mostly bare leg. There was still the faintest bruise sitting high where his shorts were riding up, but he was for the most part back to normal. They had been a lot more careful since Watanuki realized that the day might come, sooner rather than later, that he’d be bare before Himawari. He didn’t want to do it already covered in hickies.

 

Doumeki thought about teasing him. He could have managed it, too. The toe of a shoe caressing his ankle. He could press his knees wide to push against his thigh. But there was a time and a place. On their first date as a triad and while Watanuki was watching the orchestra in rapt attention was neither.

 

When the break came, Doumeki’s contact, one of the assistant managers, came to find him and invited them on stage. She pointed out some interesting pieces of architecture: The sweet spot in the acoustics and where to sit in the audience to take advantage of it. The wall just before the wing covered in lipstick that the opera singers kissed before shows for good luck. By the time this was done there were still about ten minutes left and Himawari dragged Watanuki away to explore the stage and see the theater from the other perspective.

 

Doumeki stayed behind. It didn’t take more than a few exchanged pleasantries before his colleague got straight to the point.

 

“Since when do you play tour guide?”

 

They were leaning against the side of the proscenium, careful to stay out of the musicians’ way as they bustled back stage. They both watched as Himawari and Watanuki found the concertmaster’s score and boggled at the sheer number of notes a person could fit into one measure.

 

“I thought they might enjoy it.” With a sense of satisfaction, Doumeki decided he’d been right.

 

“Yeah, but…”

 

When the significant look she was giving him did nothing to clarify, he had to ask. “But, what?”

 

“Whose ass are you kissing, that you have to play third wheel to some tourists?”

 

Doumeki considered it. His? Hers? “Theirs?” He shrugged. “I’m not a third wheel.”

 

She looked at him a little testily. “Those two are definitely a couple.”

 

“Triad.” He corrected

 

She didn’t say anything but he could see her staring out of the corner of his eye.

 

“ _You_?” She finally asked, a little incredulously.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Oh.” She met his gaze as he finally looked over. “And how did you manage that?”

 

He looked back to the pair currently descending the elevated stands of the woodwind section. A smile ghosted his lips. “Persistence.”

 

“I assume I should keep this quiet?” She asked, a bit of a chuckle to her voice.

 

Doumeki looked to her, then back to his partners. “Tell whoever you want.” He said, pushing off the wall. They shared a final look before he turned ahead to issue a warning. “Not that row.”

 

The pair paused just before they could enter the brass section. “What? Why?” Watanuki asked.

 

“Look at the floor.”

 

He did and predictably looked back up with a scowl on his face. “That’s disgusting!”

 

“Hence the warning.” Doumeki wasn’t sure it was fair to get so upset over a little spit on the hardwood when rockstars were so famous for leaving much worse behind in hotels and dressing rooms, but there was no harm in avoiding it if he could.

 

The break drew to a close and Himawari excused herself while Watanuki requested a smoke break. With an agreement to reconvene in the lobby, the group split up. Doumeki knew the building well enough and insisted they climb the two flights of stairs it took to get to the balcony. Watanuki complained, but stopped abruptly when doors opened and he saw the view.

 

“Oh!” He said, eyes wide in the sunset.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“That’s beautiful.” He softened and approached the guardrail, leaning against it with a hip as he dug out his lighter. “What I wouldn’t give to work here, right?”

 

Doumeki shook his head a little and held up his hand to help guard the flame from the breeze as Watanuki lit his cigarette. “You work in a Manhattan high-rise. _Really_?”

 

“Yeah, but that’s just buildings. _This_ is city and nature and mountains and ocean and…” He lapsed into silence as he took a drag. Even after he exhaled the smoke, he didn’t finish the thought.

 

Doumeki glanced over his shoulder at the view but somehow he found the look on Watanuki’s face far more compelling. “I suppose you’re right.” He rested his lower back against the railing. “Have you kissed her yet?”

 

“What?” Watanuki’s blue eyes shot to him, but his question had been clear enough. He didn’t repeat it.

 

“This wouldn’t be a terrible place for a first kiss.”

 

Or a… What were they on now?

 

He’d lost count. What a shame.

 

It had to be at least a hundred.

 

Watanuki’s brow knit and he wore the slightest frown as he exhaled. “Better than a Canadian parking lot?” He gave Doumeki a questioning look.

 

But he just shook his head the slightest bit and smirked. Was he waiting for Doumeki to deny it? “It’s not a competition.” He said, sliding a hand down the stone of the rail a few inches. “Just didn’t want you to miss an opportunity.”

 

Watanuki pictured it, or… tried to anyway. It felt off somehow. He’d imagined a kiss with Himawari in fantasies plenty of times.

 

Doumeki had never been a part them.  


“Where are we going after this?” He asked, gaze out to the place where city became ocean.

 

“I made dinner reservations.”

 

Watanuki looked around until he spotted an ashtray back by the big glass doors. “Then let’s go to dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The concert schedule is based on the actual schedule happening in Tokyo this summer. ^u^


End file.
